


I just do

by raikaya (rqyh)



Series: Youth Part 0 [3]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Also this is the longest ive ever written 27k holy dick, Dowoon is a soft tsun, Fluff, I know its long but its really gud ok, Jieun is my favorite character, M/M, Parents get involved because wHY NOT, When You Love Someone AU, Younghyun is both dense and in denial, education and family is important ok, i loved you au, in love i tell u rahhh, it fluctuates between crack and fluff and angst then back to fluff, lol, technically this is the REAL, the final one, this fic was made because the mv can go suck it, younghyun and dowoon are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rqyh/pseuds/raikaya
Summary: Younghyun has never really cared much for his classmates and whatever lives they live (and his mother could testify to that with a "Younghyun had friends?") but that seat's been empty for the last three days and he doesn't have anyone to copy off from during quizzes anymore so yeah, okay, MAYBE he's starting to care about that Yoon Dowoon guy, just a little, tiny bit. Maybe.(Spoiler: it's a little more than maybe.)





	I just do

 “He’s not gonna pop up out of nowhere, you know.”

               “Huh?”

               Younghyun stops looking at the empty armchair to look at Jieun, who sits on the chair in front of his, her arm dangling over its back.

               “You’ve been staring at that chair for like ten minutes now,” she pointed out, raising both eyebrows, a slightly amused smile playing on her lips.

               “Have I…” Younghyun distractedly replies, eyes trailing back to the empty chair.

               It had been three days since the owner of said chair failed to sit on it, starting Wednesday. The first day, Younghyun didn't really care much. Absences were normal, after all. But the second day, Ms. Yoon had announced a pop quiz, and Younghyun realized that he no longer had anyone to copy off from. Day Three, and Younghyun’s been staring at an empty chair “for like ten minutes now.”

               “One absence is usually fine, right?” he asks, turning to Jieun, who pushes her cheek up with the palm of her hand. “But two days, three days… that's not normal, is it?”

               “Hmm… Guess not.” Jieun shrugs, now looking more thoughtful. “He’s probably really sick. Or has to deal with a family problem. Or whatever it is people do when they're absent for three days straight.”

               “I guess you're right,” Younghyun says, sighing a little. This is really not like him. He’s not usually someone who cares what score he gets on a test, but wow, that 7/40 he got due the smart kid’s lack of adjacent presence must have really made an impact on him this time. Or, at least, that's the reason why he thinks the boy hasn’t left his mind yet.

               “I have to say, though,” says Jieun, pulling Younghyun from his thoughts, “I've never seen the two of you hang out before. Seems like you're actually close?”

               “No, he's just a classmate,” he says, catching himself about to look at the chair again. He should really stop. “I don't even know his name.”

               Jieun raises an eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you're showing affection to a stranger? You don't even show affection to your friends.”

               “I’m not sho—I don't even—”

               But Jieun laughs at Younghyun’s protests. He glares at her.

               “No need to be all defensive; your reputation of being that One Guy who hates everyone isn’t going away any time soon,” she says, and Younghyun rolls his eyes. “His name is Yoon Dowoon.”

               With the mention of that name, Younghyun’s eyes unconsciously trail back to that empty chair next to him, and he sees the broad, awkward-looking, slouched back of the boy who had been sitting next to him three days ago.

_Yoon Dowoon, huh?_

               He’s never paid much attention to how this Dowoon’s facial features looked like, or whether or not he smiled often, or if his looks matched his deep voice that had always nonchalantly gave the correct answer every single time, so Younghyun doesn’t know why he's frustrated that he knows so little about him.

               “Younghyun,” Jieun calls him back to Earth. “You're staring again.”

               “You said his name is Yoon Dowoon?” he asks, frowning, ignoring her previous statement.

               “Yeah. Why?” Jieun asks, sounding confused.

               “Nothing,” Younghyun says. “It's… just a weird name.”

 

It’s already Saturday, but the thought of Dowoon still hasn’t left his mind. As he passes by the wide glass windows of the strip mall a fifteen-minute brisk walk away from school and a long bicycle ride away from his apartment, he tries to extract any deep memory he has of the boy.

               Most of it is related to him answering lots of questions from the teacher, being called to the front to answer a difficult Math problem that the entire class is secretly condemning under their breath, and… that's it.

               He remembers being told by the English teacher how he had to “be more like his seatmate” and that he should “follow his example,” which really meant getting a line of nine on his report card, rather than trying to be more diligent at school. He doesn't remember Dowoon ever being enthusiastic at answering questions, always saying his deoxy-whatevers and his ANOVA-somethings in the most deadpan way possible. In fact, the only energetic one in class had to be that eyeglasses boy, who never thinks before giving an answ—

               Younghyun stops short, a couple behind almost bumping into him before complaining about some rude kid as they pass by.

               Now that he's remembering this, Dowoon, for all his reputation of being the teacher's favorite, of being the constant number one in the class, of never having answered wrong in a test before, never seemed to like school at all.

               And this is coming from someone who usually tunes out whatever the teacher is saying to look out the window like some anime character and wonder when the torture will end. Being someone who relies on getting the answers correct by taking a peek at his classmate’s paper, he's familiar with how Dowoon usually sits in his seat—bored of the class, but more tired than arrogant. The few times Younghyun actually listened to a class (because he knows that cheating isn't an all-around solution to his laziness problem) he’d seen Dowoon get called up to the front time and time again, heard him practically recite the entire History of Korea textbook time and time again, but every time he did, it was like he was just trying to finish it as quick as he could so he could get back to sitting and/or sleeping on his chair.

               That's another thing: sleeping on his chair. Passionate Nerds don't intentionally drone out a new opportunity to learn. But Dowoon has done it more than once.

               So, basically, Dowoon was just extremely smart, or just had really good memory. Either way, Younghyun _still_ has no idea why he even cares.

               He lets out an exasperated sigh and continues walking until he gets to his usual weekend hangout: the arcade.

               He walks in and lets the pink, purple, and blue color combination fill his sight as the sounds of buttons being smashed, of ticket chains being pulled out, and of the yells of triumph after winning a game play in his hears. Younghyun has never not gone to the arcade during a Saturday; it was probably the one thing that makes the drag of school worthwhile—the opportunity to let loose as soon as it's over.

               Normally, whatever problems Younghyun’s had in his mind vanish the moment he walks in that shop. It's his way of breaking free and releasing all the stress that he's been keeping. But as he exchanges his coins for the ones meant for the arcade, the image of Dowoon fills his once more.

               Will he be back on Monday? Or will the chair still be empty? Is he really just sick, or did he just stupidly forget that he had school? Will his grades be fine, or had he already gone to school this weekend to make up for the loss?

               Multiple questions popped up in his mind at the same time that even Younghyun himself had a hard time deciphering them. All they were yelling about was Dowoon, Dowoon, Dowoon. A classmate he's never even spoken to before.

               Maybe it's because he just lost his part-time job last week. (Jieun says that Younghyun shouldn't ever let someone step on him like “Manager Butthole”, and he's grateful she was there when he was accused of theft, but where the heck is he going to find a new job that’s near school _and_ home?)

               Maybe the stress he got from cutting off the source of two-thirds of his weekly stress was making him extra affectionate for strangers, alluding his own experience to another, making him worry about a three-day absence and wonder if Dowoon’s alright.

               Or maybe Younghyun had always been curious about Dowoon, but never really had time to develop that thought. Maybe the fact that there’s no longer anyone sitting next to him makes him wish there was. Maybe Younghyun wants to know Dowoon, now that he can.

               Or maybe Younghyun just really needs more friends.

               Younghyun shakes his head at the thought and goes on over to the motorcycle game. He remembers someone from last week beat his high score (some weirdo named “dabbam”) so he just focuses on reclaiming his title.

               He hears a startling sound from somewhere behind him, like someone banging on one of the games. Younghyun doesn't bother to look—it’s probably just another hot-tempered gamer who couldn't pass the desert stage in the racer game (Younghyun had never gone past that, either). The manager will probably deal with that soon.

               Before Younghyun can even start the game, he hears another bang, and his eyebrow twitches. He is never going to be able to concentrate if this guy keeps releasing his anger on an innocent, emotionless machine that never did anything wrong.

               He turns over—

               And sees a familiar slouched back sitting in front of one of the games. Yoon Dowoon.

               The manager is already on his way over, anger painted on his features like a war sign. He raises a fist—

               Younghyun is there to block it before he even knew he moved.

               “Woah,” Younghyun says, a little breathless. “That's my friend you're about to hit.”

               The manager’s eyes glance to Younghyun’s left, and the latter turns just in time to see his “friend” leave, not even sparing him a glance.

               Wow. Younghyun’s first betrayal and it's from a stranger he accidentally called his friend.

               “Some friend, huh,” the manager sneers.

               “Yeah,” Younghyun replies, knowing what's gonna happen next. “Tell me about it.”

               Yeah, the punch on his face really said a lot.

 

Muttering curses on the Yoon Dowoon name, Younghyun walks on the empty streets that lead his way home. Half of his face is still sore from that punch; he's going to have to see the doctor tomorrow morning.

               Younghyun sighs. He wonders if the manager would still let him in the next weekend. He _is_ a regular, after all. And he still has to beat that stupid score. Maybe if he tells him that he mistook Dowoon for a friend, he would be less… hostile.

               Dowoon. Damn that guy. Who the hell just leaves after someone takes a punch for you? And to think, Younghyun had been wondering about his state of well-being for two days. He must be extremely healthy, then, if he was able to play a game at the arcade.

               He turns at a curve in the streets. One more and he can finally fall aslee—

               A pair of dark brown eyes look up at Younghyun, seated at a table in front of a convenience store. Younghyun stops in his tracks.

               For a while, the two of them stare at each other, Younghyun standing and Dowoon sitting with a tiny bottle of banana milk in front of him, him hunched over in that same slouch that really isn't good for his back (but what does Younghyun care about his well-being?)

               Finally (albeit disappointingly), Younghyun gives in, sighing and walking over to take a seat in front of Dowoon. (Weirdly it feels like he's been in this same place before, but he doesn't think much of it.)

               “Thanks a lot for this,” Younghyun says, pointing to the wound on the bottom-left corner of his mouth. He can still taste the blood (gross).

               To his credit, Dowoon’s eyes shift a little, looking down to the side a bit as if he felt some guilt in him. Younghyun feels some of his anger dissipate.

               Instead of saying anything, though, Dowoon brings out something from his pocket and places it on the table.

               It’s a small box of ointment and a hard-boiled egg.

               Younghyun blinks at the objects, looking at Dowoon as if to say, “What the hell am I supposed to with this?”

               Dowoon nudges his head, as if to say, “Just do whatever.”

               So Younghyun takes the hard-boiled egg, and immediately feels a stone-cold feeling come in contact with his skin.

               “Is this supposed to be for my face?” Younghyun asks, pointing.

               Dowoon nods a little, grabbing his banana milk and sipping on the straw.

               Younghyun breathes out a laugh. “Okay. This is weird but okay.”

               He brings the egg over to his face, pressing it near the panging pain with his open palm, making slow circles.

               It hurts a little, but it’s better than nothing.

               “I don't look stupid, do I?” Younghyun asks Dowoon.

               Slowly, as if Younghyun’s question just broke a long-time curse, a tiny smile tugs at the corners of Dowoon’s lips, and Younghyun feels a wide one spread on his face.

               “You kind of do,” Dowoon says.

               The both of them snort in laughter at the same time; the whole situation’s just so ridiculous. Younghyun glances up to see Dowoon looking to the side, teeth biting onto the straw as he suppresses a laugh.

               Younghyun puts the egg down, and he starts to think Dowoon’s actually a really cool guy.

               “Thanks, I guess,” Younghyun says. The smile on Dowoon’s face gradually turns into a polite poker face as the amusement simmers down.

               Dowoon nods in response, sipping on his banana milk.

               Another moment of silence.

               “Um…” Younghyun starts, a bit awkwardly, “the thing is… I’m actually a classmate of yours.”

               “Kang Younghyun,” Dowoon says, nodding.

               Younghyun blinks in surprise.

               “You know my name?” he asks.

               “You don't know mine?” Dowoon raises an eyebrow.

               Younghyun remembers asking Jieun about the name of his absent classmate.

               “Of… course, I do,” Younghyun stammers, trying hard to make it seem like he isn't lying. ‘Cause he technically isn't. “You… get called by the teacher… a lot.”

               “You’re really not doing a good job in convincing me.”

               “I know.” Younghyun scratches his neck, sheepish. “Um… anyway, uh… there was a test last Thursday…”

               Dowoon narrows his eyes.

               “And, uh, I just wanted to tell you since, you know, you're the top student and all, and…” Younghyun struggles to gather his words, “… and since you've been absent for like three days, and… uh, anyway, just wanted to let you know so you could make up for it. They still do those remedial quizzes even on Sundays, right? So—”

               “I’m not going to school on Monday.”

               “O-oh?” Younghyun asks, a bit taken aback. “Are you still sick? Or is it something el—”

               “I’m not going to go to school anymore.”

               Younghyun stares at Dowoon in surprise. He looks back with as much care in the world as the amount of banana milk left in his bottle (i.e. close to none).

               “But—but why?” Younghyun asks. “I mean, you get a perfect score on every test, and all the teachers like you—”

               “This is coming from someone who escapes class as soon as the teacher leaves,” Dowoon retorts.

               “I… I mean…” He does have a point there. Younghyun knows he's being hypocritical. The only thing he thinks about school is how much of a bore everything is, and how he just wants to graduate to get everything over with.

               But to drop out of school? That isn't something that Younghyun had even considered. School sucks, but education isn't something that everyone can get their hands on. And for someone like Younghyun, someone who has to count the bills in his wallet to see if he can still afford to pay the rent, someone who has to save up to be able to play at most three games at the arcade, someone who has to take up a part-time job because his parents don't earn enough to sustain the family; for someone like him, education is a goldmine.

               “ _You steal my money and then have the nerve to come back here_?”

               Both Younghyun and Dowoon jump at the voice—the manager had slammed the convenience store door open with an angry _bang!_

               Younghyun’s eyes go wide—it’s Mr. Butthole.

               “Run, Dowoon, run!” Younghyun yells, hurriedly grabbing the egg, ointment, and Dowoon’s hand, pulling him out of there fast.

               “What the heck?” Dowoon asks, running off along with him. Younghyun hears Mr. Butthole’s angry yelling behind him. “Why are we—who is— _why_ —”

               “Jieun made me quit my job and now Mr. Butthole’s angry,” Younghyun hurriedly explains in one breath, turning a corner that definitely does not lead to his apartment.

               “Jieun? Mr. Bu— _what?”_

               In spite of it all, Younghyun finds himself laughing as he pulls Dowoon to God knows where, running off to wherever his feet lead him to.

               He's fairly certain he hears Dowoon breathe a laugh at one point.

 

“I think we lost him,” Younghyun breathes, slowing down and catching his breath. He looks around; they're at a children’s park.

               “I don't think we even needed to run in the first place,” Dowoon says, next to him and just as breathy. “I don't think Mr. Bu—uh… that angry guy even tried to go after us.”

               “Better safe than sorry, Dowoon. Better safe than sorry.”

               For a while, they just keep walking in silence. The park isn’t that far away from his apartment, he thinks. He's only been here twice: when he got lost at the age of eight, and when Jieun dragged him out of the convenience store and refused to let go of his hand until they arrived here. With the sky dark and starless as ever, and the sounds of crickets filling up the entire scene, Younghyun can't help but wish the world was as calm and still like this.

               “How long are you going to hold my hand?” Dowoon suddenly asks.

               When Younghyun turns, he sees that he is, in fact, still holding Dowoon’s hand.

               He could have detached his own arm from the way he let go of Dowoon.

               “Ow,” says Dowoon.

               “Sorrysorrysorry!” Younghyun splutters, feeling a pink warmth come over his cheeks. He tucks both his hands in his pockets, looking at anywhere but Dowoon. Maybe if he wished for it hard enough, he'd wake up in his bed and find that this was all just a big embarrassing dream.

               “It’s not a big deal,” Dowoon says.

               After recovering from his embarrassment, Younghyun sneakily glances at Dowoon, who’s looking down as he walks. Now that he can look at him better (in which “better” means under the really bad lighting of a few weak street lights and the moon), he can see a tiredness in Dowoon’s eyes. He also looks a little dehydrated; his lips are cracked. (Younghyun doesn't know why he decided to look at his lips, of all things.)

               Younghyun would say something about how different the Dowoon at school was to the Dowoon he’s with now, but he doesn't know him enough to know.

               He wants to know.

               “Why aren't you going to school anymore?” he asks, voice quiet.

               Dowoon stops in his tracks. Younghyun does, too; a swing set stands by his side.

               Dowoon doesn't answer immediately—which is fine. Younghyun figures that maybe the question is too personal. He sits down on one of the seats on the swings and sways back and forth, keeping the tips of his shoes on the ground.

               “I just don't want to,” Dowoon answers, and Younghyun looks up at him. The boy looks at Younghyun for a short bit before glancing away. He leans on the pole of the swing set.

               Younghyun smiles a little, and looks forward, at the concrete jungle in front of him: buildings, roads, a row of bicycles. Car lights, street lights, the dimness of the stars. A slight breeze that Younghyun can feel kissing the sides of his face.

               “I know I’m not in the place to tell you how to live your life,” Younghyun starts, and he sees in his peripheral vision Dowoon turning his head, “but don't quit school.”

               A pause.

               “Why not?” Dowoon asks.

               “Because you have the luxury to choose no.”

               Younghyun stops swaying and looks up at Dowoon. He's looking back.

               “Tell you what,” Younghyun says, leaning back and smiling, “if you come back to school on Monday, I’ll stop skipping class.”

               Dowoon raises an eyebrow.

               “You think you actually attending class has any importance to me?”

               “Nope,” Younghyun laughs. “I’m just using you as an excuse to get my life together.”

               “So you're just using me for your own benefit? Wow, I thought more of you,” Dowoon deadpans.

               “How about this? Surely you would attend class if you have a certain someone drag you out of your house every morning.” And he wiggles his eyebrows cheekily. Dowoon frowns.

               “You won't actually do that.”

               “Who says I won't?”

               “Stop bluffing,” Dowoon scoffs, turning to look somewhere else. “There is no way you're going to show up at my house on Monday and force me to go to school.”

 

Younghyun shows up at Dowoon’s house two days later to force him to go to school.

               Except. There’s a problem.

               Dowoon’s house is _huge_.

               It's one of those big ass modern houses with a sleek black, white, and brown design that towers above all peasant houses. Younghyun can see through the big windows how tall the ceiling is from the first floor; he could probably plant a tree in that place. On the second floor he could see a door leading out to the balcony, where a table shaded by an umbrella sits comfortably, as if always on the lookout for anything to gossip about. On the ground, there are stone circles in the grass leading to the backyard and a cement road leading to the open garage, where an expensive-looking black car is sitting (Younghyun thinks that if this car was a person, they'd be one of those sunglass-wearing ones whose looks could kill.) A tall black metal fence is the only thing that separates Younghyun from such a jaw-dropping spectacle.

               But he snaps out of the spell induced by the magic of money, and immediately rings the doorbell under the name “YOON”; he came here with a mission, after all.

               But no one answers. Younghyun frowns. Either Dowoon is asleep or he’s not responding on purpose.

               So he cracks his knuckles and does what any normal human being would do: press the doorbell repeatedly until someone answers.

               Eventually, someone does.

               “ _Oh my god, Younghyun, stop it._ ”

               The voice comes from a speaker below the doorbell. It comes off very radio-like, but Younghyun knows it’s Dowoon.

               “How did you know it was me?” Younghyun asks, a smile spreading across his face.

               “ _Because I can see you from my balcony, you idiot._ ”

               Younghyun instinctively looks up to see Dowoon himself, standing next to the table from before and leaning on the black fence enclosing the balcony. There's an open glass sliding door behind him, which Younghyun assumes leads to his room.

               Younghyun waves at him. He sees Dowoon roll his eyes and put something that looks like a miniature remote near his mouth.

               “ _I didn't think you'd actually come here,_ ” says Dowoon’s voice from the speaker.

               “I’m a man who keeps his promises,” Younghyun answers, and Dowoon scoffs.

               “ _More like someone who keeps being more annoying than he should be._ ”

               Younghyun rolls his eyes. “Just get down here.”

               “ _I told you; I’m not going to school._ ”

               “And I told you I’m going to bring you there.”

               “ _Younghyun, you're like two floors away from me._ ”

               “True, but I can do this—”

               Younghyun starts ringing the doorbell repeatedly again.

               “ _Oh my god, okay, stop, stop, stop! Fine, I’m going, I’m going!_ ”

               Younghyun stops abusing the poor door bell and watches with triumph as Dowoon walks into his room and slides the door closed, a little forcibly, closing the curtains.

               Younghyun smiles a little to himself and leans on the giant black fence. Honestly, he never expected Dowoon to have a house _this_ big. He could probably fit ten identical copies of his apartment in the living room alone. Dowoon’s parents must be _hella_ hella rich.

_Must be nice to live in a big house,_ Younghyun thinks, looking up at Dowoon’s room.

               But why does Dowoon seem to think otherwise?

               A few minutes later, Dowoon comes out the front door wearing his uniform, his bag on his back, and a sour expression on his face.

               “May I take you to your academy, young master?” Younghyun teases as soon as Dowoon locks the front gate.

               “You may take yourself to your grave,” Dowoon deadpans, moving passed him.

               Younghyun trails behind him, a big smile on his face.

 

“Younghyun, you just missed the weirdest th—” Jieun cuts herself off when she sees a bitter Dowoon walk in the almost-empty classrom behind Younghyun. “Dowoon! You're back. Are you feeling better?”

               Younghyun sees Dowoon hesitate a little, glancing at the former as if he doesn't know what to do, and Younghyun suddenly realizes that Dowoon is probably as friend-less as he is.     

               “Yeah, he's fine,” Younghyun answers for him, walking over to his seat and putting his bag down. Dowoon follows after him, nodding in acknowledgment at Jieun, who smiles in return.

               “That's good to know.” Jieun smiles. “How come you were absent for so long?”

               Dowoon glances at Younghyun again, a little panickly. Yeah, he figures “I wanted to drop out of school,” isn't the best answer.

               “Pneumonia,” Younghyun answers for him again, and Jieun turns to him with a questioning look. “Really bad, apparently.”

               Jieun stares at Younghyun for a moment, making him wonder if he had been caught, but then a laugh escapes from her lips.

               “Well, it's good you're better now,” she says, turning to Dowoon. “This guy’s been staring at your chair for like three days, worried sick.”

               “Wha—I did _naught!”_

               “Really?” Dowoon asks, raising an eyebrow at Younghyun, who flushes.

               “Yeah. Last Friday, he asked the teachers if any news came up about you, and they thought he was trying to find an excuse to skip school,” Jieun innocently continues. “And just yesterday, he asked me to ask Jaehyung-ie to ask Sungjin to ask Wonpil if he had the list of all the addresses of the class so he could get yours.”

               “Really,” Dowoon says, still staring at Younghyun.

               “It’s not that weird!” Younghyun protests, his face already at its maximum temperature. “Anyone would get worried if their seatmate didn't go to class for three days straight.”

               “Yeah,” Dowoon says, the corner of his lips perking up, “especially if said seatmate is the reason why they're even passing the class.”

               Jieun puts her hand up and Dowoon high-fives her. Younghyun is dead.

               “I like this guy, Younghyun,” Jieun laughs, and he can see a tiny smile play on Dowoon’s lips. “Why didn't you introduce him sooner? I could've had someone to tell your deepest darkest secrets to.”

               “We've been friends for like a week,” Younghyun points out, hoping his blush would die out soon.

               “Dowoon, one time in the third grade—”

               “Oh my god, shut up.” Younghyun moves over to cover Jieun’s stupid mouth but she quickly dodges it, laughing. She sneakily runs away and out the classroom as Younghyun glares at her direction.

               He sighs and turns to Dowoon with, “This is what I have to deal with.”

               But Dowoon is staring at the floor, as if there’s something so interesting that he can't take his eyes off of it. Younghyun looks—nothing but white tiles.

               Younghyun waves a hand. “Dowoon? You okay?”

               Dowoon snaps out of it and just stares at Younghyun for a moment. Younghyun frowns. Maybe he really does hate school. (For whatever reason Younghyun can't extract from him.)

               “You'll be fine,” he says, patting his hand on Dowoon’s shoulder. “I’ll be your ever-reliable seatmate.”

               Dowoon rolls his eyes and Younghyun almost sighs in relief: there's the Dowoon he’s known for like three days.

               “Between you and me, I think it's obvious who's the reliable one,” he says, taking a seat and opening his bag to get a textbook out. Younghyun sits next to him.

               “Fair enough, but I wasn't the one who wanted to drop out,” he says.

               “I’m not the one who skips class at every opportunity.”

               “I told you—I’m turning a new leaf!”

               Dowoon glances at Younghyun from the corner of his eye.

               “Let's see how long that lasts.”

               Challenge accepted.

 

Correction: challenge _regrettably_ accepted.

               Younghyun finds paying attention to the teacher even more torture than whatever he's reciting from the textbook. All Younghyun wants is to run out the classroom and up the stairs to get to the rooftop and _breathe_. To lie down on the cemented floor and look up at the blue sky sometimes filled with clouds and sometimes not. To put his earbuds in and listen to bands who know the right melodies to make him feel like he's finally away from reality. To hum to himself a melody that's been in head for a while now and maybe create an entire song out of it. To find solace in the one place in the entire school that makes him feel free.

               But Younghyun’s right eye is twitching with how annoyed he is at Mr. Kwon and his monotonous voice reciting that the “fractional parts of the total area under the normal probability curve corresponds to distances on the baseline in terms of sigma units” without even explaining why they even have to use a normal curve in the first place.

               In all honesty, Younghyun would probably be more interested if they were told the significance of whatever they were learning, but nooo, Mr. Kwon comes walking over and saying they had to “memorize the z-values in accordance to their areas from 0.00 to 1.00” and frankly, Younghyun wants to open the window and jump onto the nearest tree and escape to the arcade to ask for forgiveness from the manager. (It doesn't help that Mr. Kwon is dull as hell. Younghyun swears he'd been maintaining that C note ever since he entered the room.)

               Younghyun glances at Dowoon from the corner of his eye, and he sees how bored the other boy is. But despite that, his eyes are staring attentively at what Mr. Kwon is saying, as if he's absorbing everything with a gaze alone. He looks bored, he does, but then Mr. Kwon says, “The normal curve is used to determine the distribution among the population or sample,” and his eyebrows perk up a little bit. And a small spark lights up in his eyes, and he leans forward just a tiny bit, and he furrows his eyebrows slightly.

               And Younghyun smiles a little to himself, turning back to look at Death in the form of Mr. Kwon, telling himself to wait until the lunch bell rings.

               (He still doesn’t understand a single thing Mr. Kwon said that hour, but he figures there's always something to learn at school, even if it isn't exactly about school.)

 

“This is illegal,” Dowoon says, pulled by the unstoppable force of Younghyun’s hand on his wrist. 

               “At school, yeah,” Younghyun says, “but as far as I know, there aren't any laws forbidding students from entering their own school’s rooftop.”

               The rooftop is almost always empty, nothing but a screen fence separating the students from their impending doom. There's always a breeze dancing up here and the sky is nearer. Younghyun can see the other buildings of the school, the grounds, the swimming pool, as well as other parts of the city.

               The rooftop is also forbidden to be entered by the students, but Younghyun isn't Younghyun if he doesn't live on the edge.

               “Is the only reason why you're not worried over a possible suspension because you've never been caught?” Dowoon asks.

               “Yes,” Younghyun answers, cheerily. He sits down on the cemented floor, and so does Dowoon, though rather clumsily for some reason. “But at least I have someone to share the consequences with.”

               “Not… really,” Dowoon answers slowly, looking at Younghyun weirdly. “If a teacher comes over here, all they need is to see you and think you influenced me into breaking the rules. It's only you who'll be punished.”

               “An indication of the corrupt system of education,” Younghyun says, nodding solemnly.

               “Also, you're still holding my arm,” Dowoon points out, lifting it.

               Younghyun releases his grip immediately, immediately feeling his cheeks warm up. (So that's why Dowoon sat down so clumsily.)

               “Sorry!” he says. _Why_ does he keep doing that?

               Dowoon furrows his eyebrows a little.

               “You blush easily,” he observes.

               “Un… unfortunately,” Younghyun murmurs, feeling a warmth spread down his back. He shakes it off and focuses his attention on the paper bag he brought with him.

               “I bought you something last Sunday,” Younghyun says, digging through his bag.

               “Is this from Mr. Butthole.”

               “Unfortunately.” Younghyun shudders. He does not want to relive that memory ever. “But it was worth it.”

               He pulls out a bottle from his bag and hands it to Dowoon.

               “‘Oneul Banana Milk’,” Dowoon reads.

               “‘Send yourself to a wonderful adventure in the forest as you enjoy our monkey friends’ favorite drink,’” Younghyun says. Dowoon looks at him weirdly.

               “Did you memorize that?”

               “I think it's weirder to say that I didn't.”

               Dowoon leans on the Very Sturdy screen fence and stares at the bottle in his hand for a while. Younghyun moves on to bringing out his lunch.

               “You brought your lunch, right?” Younghyun asks, completely focused on unpacking his and digging into his minimalist sausage and egg combo. He may not be a world-class chef, but at least what he cooks is _edible_ (@Jieun).

               When Dowoon doesn't answer, Younghyun looks up and finds the boy still staring at the bottle.

               “Dowoon?” he asks. “Did you hear me?”

               “Why did you offer to bring me to school?” Dowoon asks instead, not looking at Younghyun.

               Younghyun is taken aback.

               “W-well, that's—”

               “Is it because you didn't have anyone to copy off from anymore?” Dowoon asks, his words fast. “Is it because you were bored? Is it because you wanted to get on my good side so I could help you get your grades u—”

               “No!” Younghyun exclaims, surprised at this outburst. “No to all of those. Honest.”

               “Then why?” Dowoon asks, putting the bottle down and looking at Younghyun, exasperated. “I don't get it. Why on earth do you go to such lengths to help me? I don't even know you.”

               Younghyun opens his mouth to give an answer but finds he doesn't have one.

               Why _does_ Younghyun care so much?

               “I… I don't know,” Younghyun timidly answers.

               “You don't know,” Dowoon deadpans.

               “Honestly, I don't,” Younghyun says. “It's just…” He looks at the cemented floor. “Without you sitting next to me, I started to notice you more. (Which is weird because you weren't actually there, but whatever.) I mean, I know I denied it earlier, but for some reason, I was really worried about you.

               “And then I saw you at the arcade, and then I saw you at the convenience store, and then I saw you at your house, and then…”

               Younghyun looks at Dowoon, who looks back.

               “Then now, I see you.”

               Dowoon doesn't say anything for a while, just stares at Younghyun.

               Then he says:

               “Are you flirting with me?”

               And it takes a few seconds for what Dowoon said to sync in, and it takes a few more for what _Younghyun_ said to sync in, and just one for him to realize what he might have implied.

               “ _No!”_ Younghyun practically screams, jumping up from where he sat, sending his lunchbox flying the right-side up, contents miraculously still intact, towards Dowoon and feeling his entire body burn up. Dowoon winces at the sudden loudness, absentmindedly watching over Younghyun’s lunch with a hand.

               “I didn't mean—that's not what I—it's not—” Younghyun splutters, mind a tornado of _Why am I like this_.

               He tries his best to save face.

               “I—I meant that I didn't notice you before, but now I do, because—you know—I got to know you, and stuff, not because—” Younghyun feels _another_ wave of embarrassment come over his face. 

               (If Younghyun’s thoughts are a bunch of apples, he’s currently carrying about one hundred of them with both his arms and trying to walk without dropping them all at once.)

               But he hears a burst of laughter, and he looks down to see Dowoon doubling over, hugging both the bottle of banana milk and Younghyun’s lunch. He sees the crinkle in between Dowoon’s eyes and the pink color seeping through his cheeks. He sees little bits of tears and the shake of his shoulders. He sees the wide smile on Dowoon’s face and the tiny glance he gives Younghyun before laughing again.

               Younghyun sees all this and decides he wants to see it again.

               “How do you get embarrassed so easily?” Dowoon asks, the traces of laughter slowly fading away, only a tiny smile and a faint blush left on his face.

               He removes the cap from the bottle and takes a sip. He takes one look at Younghyun, his ever-stoic face back in its place.

               “You should eat your lunch. As sad it is.”

               Younghyun laughs a little before sitting down next to Dowoon and watching him take another sip.

               He guesses he'll have to endure the glare of Mr. Butthole again this afternoon.

 

“You're smiling.”

               Younghyun hardly notices Jieun as he types in his next text, a _how u dowoon? im dowoon fine_ one press away from being sent.

               “Am I?” Younghyun asks, smiling.

               “Yes, you are.”

               Dowoon replies with a _Leave me alone_ and Younghyun shamelessly giggles.

               “And now he's giggling. Where's the Kang Younghyun who glared at me when he was the one who bumped into me?”

               “Shut up,” Younghyun says, nudging Jieun with his shoulder while typing up _i dowoont to_.

               “He speaks,” Jieun deadpans. “I don't think I've ever even _seen_ you pick up your phone except to put your earbuds in.”

               “Dowoon’s just really funny,” Younghyun says. He shows Jieun his phone. “Look.”

               Jieun quickly scans the text messages.

               “Younghyun, the only messages Dowoon’s sent you are multiple variations of ‘Go away,’” she says.

               “I know!” Younghyun takes the phone back. “I don't know how he comes up with so many ways to say it.”

               He hears Jieun sigh beside him, whispering something with the words “can't believe”, “with”, and “idiot.”

               Someone slides (slams) the classroom doors open.

               “Will you _stop_ sending me texts whenever I go out of the classroom?”

               Younghyun looks up at Dowoon, who had just walked in with a stack on notebooks in his arms and a sour expression on his face.

               “I dowoont to,” Younghyun says, smiling.

               “I regret buying you that egg.”

               Dowoon slams a notebook on Younghyun’s desk.

               “Here,” he says, moving over to the other chairs. “You got half the total score.”

               “A miracle,” Younghyun says, flipping through his notebook.

               “Here, Jieun-ssi,” he hears Dowoon say. “You got fourty over fifty.”

               “Thanks, Dowoon,” Jieun says. “You don't have to add the -ssi part; we're friends, not business partners.”

               Dowoon doesn't speak for a moment.

               “Friends?” he asks.

               “Yeah,” Jieun says, laughing a little. “Any of Younghyun’s friends are mine, too. Unfortunately, he only has like, two. Including me.”

               Younghyun moves to kick Jieun in the shin without looking away from his notebook, but Jieun is too quick again.

               “Although,” she continues, a little loudly, like she wants Younghyun to hear it, “with the way he favors you over me, I feel more like a space-filler than a friend.”

               “Natural selection is coming for you, Jieun,” Younghyun says.

               “Actually,” Dowoon starts, “judging from the scores we got in the last test, I think natural selection is coming for _you_.”

               Younghyun hears something that sounds like Dowoon and Jieun high-fiving, and he groans, turning to the two of them.

               “I never should have let you two meet,” he says.

               “Why not?” Jieun asks, batting her eyelashes innocently and grabbing onto Dowoon’s arm. “We’re perfect for each other.”

               Younghyun expects for Dowoon to deny all allegations, but then the jerk leans into Jieun’s space and shrugs, looking at Younghyun with a tiny smile on his face.

               “Ugh, this is why I don't _make_ friends,” Younghyun says, turning away and flipping his notebook open again, the twenty-three over fifty in red ink a slap to his face.

               As he hears Jieun’s laugh behind him, the visual of her hand wrapped around Dowoon’s arm fills up his mind. He remembers the few times he's held Dowoon’s arm (and forgot about it). It had always felt too thin, a bit too bony, despite his broad figure. Like he was holding a fragile thing pretending to be strong.

               He wonders how it'd be like to hold Dowoon’s hand.

               He sends his notebook flying at that thought, surprised at himself.

               Younghyun? Holding Dowoon’s hand? In what universe—for what reason—why would he—

               But he doesn't get the chance to finish that thought when he notices everyone looking at something at the door.

               It's Mr. Kwon, Younghyun’s notebook laying flat on his face. It slowly slides down, and eventually falls to the floor with a sharp sound.

               “Mr. Kang,” Mr. Kwon starts, “I was aware that you hated this subject but I wasn't aware you hated it this much.”

               “Uh… hate’s a strong word, don't you think, sir?” Younghyun asks, a nervous smile on his face.

               “Perhaps you'll find out in the Faculty room, Mr. Kang.”

               He sees someone in his peripheral vision lean in his space.

               “Natural selection is coming for you,” Jieun whispers.

               It really is.

 

It’s on a Thursday morning, exactly 6:07 AM, when Younghyun realizes how much his life’s changed because of Dowoon—

_Okay_ , Younghyun. This is why Dowoon thought you were flirting with him. Maybe you could cut the sappiness a little, for the sake of all of us.

               But as sappy as it is, it’s true. Younghyun doesn't even remember the last he's ever studied for a test, much less for Mr. Kwon’s class. These past few weeks he hasn't even left the classroom, and he's _actually paying attention_ (even if he doesn't completely understand yet). And now, it’s 6:18 AM, an hour and fourty-two minutes before class starts, and he's walking on his way to Dowoon’s house so he could take him to school. He even computed that correctly under two minutes! He might as well have gone up to the top of the class!

               Right now, even though it makes both of his ears redden in color, he can say that his world is revolved around Dowoon, however small it is. That Dowoon is why he doesn't find school as boring as before. That Dowoon is the one pushing him in the right direction without even lifting a finger.

               And he doesn't even understand why. Why when Dowoon smiles, even if it’s just a little tug at the corner of his lips, Younghyun finds himself grinning the widest he's ever grinned. Why he goes over to the Convenience Store of Hell just so he could buy Dowoon another bottle of banana milk every afternoon. Why there has never been a night or day when Younghyun hasn't sent Dowoon a text without including at least one Dowoon-related pun.

               He doesn't understand the tightness of his chest when Dowoon comes over, the blush that washes over his face whenever he realizes that he again forgot to let go of his arm, the want to see him every day, every week, whenever.

_Jieun’s right,_ Younghyun thinks. _I_ am _friend-deprived._

               He reaches his very good friend’s house (he can never get used to how big it is, really), and presses the door bell once.

               No answer.

               Younghyun frowns. He's pretty sure Dowoon’s gotten over Younghyun coming over to get him to school every morning after the third time Younghyun’s repeatedly pressed the poor door bell (he’s pretty sure the button wasn't as deeply embedded into the wall right now as it was the first time he came over).

               He presses the doorbell again, but Dowoon still doesn't answer.

               He's already cracking his knuckles and getting ready for another button-pressing spree when a faint voice comes from the speaker.

_“Younghyun? Is that you?”_

               Younghyun smiles. “Who else would it be?” he asks.

               Dowoon pauses for a bit before saying,

_“Just go to school without me today. I’ll go tomorrow.”_

               Younghyun frowns. Now that's something he’s never heard before. It’s always just “go away,” and “leave me alone,” and “don’t you dare try to climb over the fence, you big idiot.” Never a “just go without me.”

               Also, there's something wrong with Dowoon’s voice. It’s all croaky, like there's something stuck in his throat.

               “You okay?” he asks.

               “ _I’m… I’m fine_ ,” Dowoon answers. “ _Just g_ —”

               Dowoon suddenly goes into a series of coughs, and Younghyun widens his eyes.

               “You're sick!” he says.

               “ _I-I’m fine. Just ge-et to school alr—_ ”

               Dowoon coughs again, and Younghyun says,

               “No way! You're sick,” he says. “I can't just leave with you like this.”

               “ _I’m in high school, not kindergarten_ ,” Dowoon says, voice still croaky. “ _I can handle myself._ ”

               “Did you take medicine?”

               “… _No._ ”

               “Have you eaten yet?”

               “ _… I will._ ”

               “Did you even take a bath?”

               “ _… I may have planned to skip that today._ ”

               “Dowoon, let me in.”

               Younghyun hears a crackling sigh from the speaker and something with the words “is why”, “to know”, and “sick”.

               Younghyun half-expects Dowoon to come out of the front door sickly and half-dead, but instead he hears a _beep_ sound from somewhere (almost jumps out of his own skin because of it, too), and hears Dowoon’s voice again:

               “ _Gate's open. Please don't come in_.”

               When he comes in through the front door and steps into Dowoon’s house, he almost forgets that he's here to take care of his very good friend; the house is even more impressive in the inside. He's immediately greeted with an enormous living room with the biggest and fluffiest couches he's ever seen, and lots of DVDs stacked organized upon each other next to a wide shiny flat screen TV. A giant rectangular archway leads to what looks like a dining room, the only furniture he can see clearly a few chairs and only one end of a black rectangular table. Another archway leads to a hallway which probably leads to Narnia, or something, who knows.

               In the middle of it all was a giant stairway that Belle herself must have descended upon, leading up to another floor surrounded by a black fence, where Dowoon’s room is probably located.

               Younghyun snaps out of his reverie and proceeds to walk to the first step, trying his best not to get distracted by the modern and probably expensive paintings on the walls, and the hallway that he now can see leads to a cozy family room, and the enormous glass chandelier reflecting the natural light passing through the windows that make up most of the walls, and—

               Younghyun steps onto the second floor and finds himself in another living room-like room complete with _another_ flat screen TV, except there are a lot more family pictures and rooms compared to the first floor. There's also two window-like doors leading out to the balcony and another set of stairs going up, probably to the rooftop.

               Younghyun walks slowly, clutching the strap of his bag with one hand and wondering which of the rooms are Dowoon’s.

               Well… from what Younghyun’s observed from the times he's waited patiently by the gate, the balcony _leading_ to his room is located on the front of this practically-a-mansion of a house, so Dowoon’s room would probably be somewhere around… here.

               Before Younghyun turns the door knob however, he spots a family photo right next to the room. It’s a portrait photo of Dowoon and a woman Younghyun assumes is his mom. She’s shorter than Dowoon, but only by a few centimeters. She stands in a very formal manner, shoulders back and hands placed on her stomach. Her hair is cut short and neat, and the only accessories she wears are a pair of pearl earrings and a silver necklace. She looks very refined, classy, someone whom a lot of people probably respect.

               Dowoon, on the other hand, looks like this picture was taken without his content (knowing Dowoon, it probably wasn’t). He also stands with his back straight (surprising Younghyun because he's never seen this boy not trying to mimic the letter C with his spine) and with his hands at his sides. He's also wearing formal attire, a dark suit to match with the equally dark background and his equally dark expression.

               Dowoon’s mother has a polite, camera-style smile on her face, but Dowoon’s lips are as straight as a line. Younghyun wonders if there's any deeper meaning to that other than Dowoon not wanting to take a picture.

               Younghyun shakes that thought out of his head and turns the doorknob.

               When he walks in, he expects to immediately see Dowoon on his bed, withering and in pain, ready to say his last words, but he first enters a tiny lounge room with a couch, a coffee table, and _another_ flat screen TV, though not as big as the one in the living room and the second living room (who on earth even has a second living room?)

               Younghyun looks around and finds an archway leading to another part of the room and when he gets there, he finally, _finally_ , sees Dowoon, half-laying and half-sitting on his bed, a comforter covering his entire bottom half.

               “Hi,” Younghyun greets, and Dowoon turns his head, the sentence “I hate you,” painted in dark gray on his face. “I didn't know you kept an entire city in your house.”

               “Better an entire city than you.”

               Younghyun laughs a little and walks over to Dowoon, putting his backpack down and pulling over the chair under Dowoon’s study table. Dowoon’s glare softens a little to just an annoyed furrow of the eyebrow, and he adjusts into his comforter, seated up and leaning against the headboard.

               “How you feeling?” Younghyun asks, voice naturally taking on the nurturing-mother-who-really-cares-about-her-children tone.

               “Fine,” Dowoon croakily answers, coughing into a fist.

               “Okay, how are you really feeling?”

               “Like someone injected poison into my veins and it's currently eating me from the inside.”

               “More creative than I thought, but okay.”

               Younghyun places a palm onto Dowoon’s forehead and finds it not only burning up like a seven-member boy group singing a song from their seventh album, but also drenched with sweat, might as well include his blood and tears, too.

               “Damn, you have a fever. Light, but still a fever,” Younghyun mutters, mostly to himself. The bags under Dowoon’s eyes are also darker and deeper than usual (and that's saying something). And the fact that Dowoon’s already so fragile and weak is making Younghyun even more scared for his life. (One time, when Younghyun and Dowoon were walking in the hallway to head to their classroom, Dowoon had tripped out of nowhere and stayed on the floor for a good two minutes, even though Younghyun could tell he was conscious. Younghyun proceeded to lie down next to him so he wouldn't be alone, until everybody's favorite guy Kim Wonpil pulled the both of them to their classroom. Needless to say, that was a Moment.)

               “Where do you keep your medicine?” Younghyun asks, removing his hand from Dowoon’s forehead and standing up.

               Dowoon doesn’t answer immediately. When Younghyun turns back, he finds Dowoon staring at him with wide eyes, though Younghyun doesn't know why.

               “Dowoon?” he asks.

               “In… in the drawer,” Dowoon answers quietly.

               Younghyun immediately goes over to said drawer and gets a couple pills for Dowoon. He spots a pitcher and a glass at the ready (wow, fancy) and fills the latter with water before sitting back down next to Dowoon.

               “Here,” he says.

               For some reason, Dowoon chooses to stare at Younghyun’s face for a good three seconds before slowly getting the glass and pills.

               “Shouldn't it only be one?” Dowoon asks, before downing in a pill.

               “The bottle said it recommends two pills at a time, especially if it's really bad,” Younghyun says, watching Dowoon down another pill with some difficulty. “And judging from your state right now—” he places the back of his hand against Dowoon’s forehead, and the boy freezes— “it’s just about enough.”

               Dowoon suddenly falls into a series of sneezes, taking Younghyun by surprise. He immediately looks around for a tissue holder and when he finds it, rolls about six squares around his hand and presses them onto Dowoon’s nose. Dowoon sneezes and Younghyun throws the tissue into a garbage bin by the study desk.

               “How do you have a cough, fever, _and_ cold?” Younghyun asks, bewildered.

               “I don't really have a good immune system,” Dowoon answers, shivering and sniffing. “All I did was forget to turn up the heater last night. But it's fine; I’m used to being sick like this.”

               Explains why Dowoon doesn't look like he's on his death bed, though his body must feel like it.

               “Don't you have anyone to take care of you?” Younghyun asks. “I mean, I get that you're used to it, but you've told your parents at least, right?”

               At that, Dowoon’s expression hardens and he looks away from Younghyun. Younghyun blinks. Did he say something wrong?

               “… Dowoon?” he asks, after some time.

               He doesn't answer, and Younghyun realizes that whatever he said wrong must have been _really_ wrong.

               They sit in an awkward silence for a while, Dowoon staring at something on the wall, and Younghyun’s eyes shifting from the wall to Dowoon to the floor to Dowoon to the window to the drawer to—

               “… Parent.”

               Younghyun looks up. Dowoon is still staring at the wall, but his expression isn’t as hard as before.

               “It’s parent, not ‘parents’,” Dowoon finishes.

               Oh.

               “But I might as well have none,” Dowoon says. “I don't remember the last time I've actually seen her face.”

               Younghyun doesn't comment on his use of ‘her’ instead of ‘mom’.

               “When father died, she started to stay at the company for longer periods of time, did even more overtime than her employees. When she comes home it’s already so late in the night, and when I wake up, she's already gone. And, recently, she's been staying at the company, and I never really hear anything from her. Even if I _did_ tell her I was sick, she probably wouldn't even think of checking on her son herself.

               “She's supposed to be my mother, but she's never around. I might as well be living alone.”

               Dowoon had pulled his knees close to his chest, hugging them.

               “Younghyun.” He looks up at that. “Do you know why I wanted to drop out of school?”

               Younghyun doesn't answer.

               “If I dropped out, then she’d have a reason to see me,” Dowoon answers. “And then maybe she could ask me why I did that without her permission, and then she'd probably tell me that father would be so disappointed, and then she'd be angry at me.

               “Because if a mother scolds her child, isn't it because she loves him?”

               When Dowoon sniffles, Younghyun pretends it's because of his cold.

               Before he knows it, he's already leaning in and pressing his lips onto Dowoon’s forehead, and when he pulls away, Dowoon’s eyes are wide and glassy.

               “If you get sick like this again,” Younghyun says, “don't forget to call me so I can be the one to take care of you, okay?”

               Dowoon doesn't say anything, but Younghyun waits anyway.

               “As much as I appreciate the effort, Younghyun, you're a seventeen-year-old boy; you can't be a mother.”

               A wide grin breaks through Younghyun’s face as a small one appears, innocent, on Dowoon’s.

               “And frankly, I don't want you to replace my father, either.”

               Younghyun ruffles Dowoon’s hair fondly.

               “I wasn't trying to,” he says while he rolls the tissue paper around his hand again and Dowoon’s sneezes into it. He throws it away.

               “Thank God,” Dowoon says, wiping his eyes.

               Younghyun stands up. “Just rest for a while. I’ll cook you something.”

               “What?” Dowoon turns to Younghyun. “No, you have school. It's already like… 7:32. (He had turned over a bit to look at the clock on his desk.) Younghyun, you have to go.”

               “And leave you here where you can die?” Younghyun sits back down again. “I don't think so.”

               Dowoon glares at Younghyun. “I’m not gonna _die_.”

               “Yeah. Because I’m gonna take care of you.”

               “I thought you said you'd stop skipping school?”

               “Yeah, well…,” Younghyun leans comfortably on Dowoon’s chair, “school’s boring when you're not there. That's why cheat days exist, right?”

               “You are unbelievable.” Dowoon glares at Younghyun once more before pulling the comforter over himself and turning away from him.

               Younghyun stares at Dowoon, his wide smile fading into something more a mixture of sadness and contentment.

               There's something in his chest that's a combination of cold and warm, a longing to wrap Dowoon in his arms and let him go. Something like wanting to be by his side and be as far away from him as possible.

               He stands up and ruffles Dowoon’s hair one more time.

_It must be nice to live in such a big house_ , Younghyun thinks as he leaves the room.

_But I guess it's lonely to live in such a big house where there's no one to fill the big spaces_ , Younghyun thinks as he closes the door.

 

Younghyun takes it back: Dowoon’s house can fit an entire country; the city is for the _fridge_.

               Younghyun doesn't even know what to cook with the amount of ingredients in it. There are all kinds of foods in here, but Younghyun doubts Dowoon even uses any of it—I mean, all the spices on the shelves are full. Anyone with the Chef’s Touch would know better than to have a case of gochujang unopened in their kitchen. Younghyun’s mom would be _so_ offended.

               Younghyun settles with cooking something lighter on the stomach; Dowoon would probably throw up if he eats something loaded with spices.

               As Younghyun brings out the vegetables and the meat, he wonders what Dowoon’s favorite food is. As much as he knows Dowoon’s love for banana milk, he hardly thinks _that's_ his favorite meal (despite the ten bottles of it sitting prettily on its own rack in the fridge).

               Younghyun wants to know more about Dowoon, wants to know his favorite food, the music he listens to, if he likes to read books, if he works part-time somewhere, whether or not he's decided on university.

               He wants to see him smile, to make him laugh, for him to be comfortable around Younghyun. He wants to be a good friend to him, to be close to him, to be with him.

               Because even though Younghyun can't explain this feeling he has for Dowoon, the only thing that matters is that it's there.

               “What are you doing?”

               Younghyun almost chops his fingers off as he yelps in surprise.

               He turns around to see Dowoon leaning on the counter, eyebrow raised.

               “You almost gave me a heart attack,” Younghyun informs him, calming down his heart with a dramatic hand on his chest. “I thought I told you to get some rest. And you're not even wearing a jacket,” he adds, when he notices.

               Dowoon rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to die by walking around my own house.” He coughs. “I just went to make sure you weren't going to burn my house down.”

               “That's a precaution only meant for Jieun.”

               Younghyun walks over to Dowoon, takes his jacket off, and wraps it around Dowoon.

               “Wear a jacket, at least,” Younghyun says, zipping it up. “It's been really cold, lately.”

               He pulls the hood over Dowoon’s head. “There. Perfect.”

               Younghyun turns back to his work, not bothering to see whether or not Dowoon is cursing him behind his back, grabbing the knife and chopping up the vegetables.

               “I’m making you chicken soup,” he says. “It’s really good for sick people. My dad makes it for my mom all the time.”

               Dowoon doesn't respond immediately at first. (He's been doing that more often recently. Younghyun doesn't know why.)

               “… What's she like?” he finally asks, voice soft.

               “My mom? Like a ball of sunshine,” Younghyun laughs. “She's a really hard worker, taking any job and always giving to others even at her own expense. (Dad always gets mad at her for that.) She always has an extra basket of laundry to wash from the neighbors, overworking herself a lot, so she gets sick a lot, too. But even then, she's always full of energy.

               “Dad, on the other hand, is always making sure everyone's healthy and well taken care of. He's a lot more careful than my mom, and is always worried about both her and me. He said to me once that when he and mom were still teenagers, mom was so lively that he actually considered becoming her personal babysitter, or else he'd have a heart attack.”

               Younghyun hears Dowoon laugh a little behind him, and Younghyun smiles small.

               “He likes to be picky about the construction jobs he takes; no safety wear, no application form. But sometimes, when there aren't any other jobs available, he forces himself to take it anyway, and afterwards, he’ll make the funniest impressions about his employer out of pettiness. But other than that, he always has nice things to say about people. And mom, too.

               “They’re special to me. Really special. I don't… I don't know what I’d do without them.”

               It's silent for a while, except for the sound of Younghyun dropping the ingredients into a pot of boiling water and the occasional cough from Dowoon.

               “Your family sounds amazing,” Dowoon says, and Younghyun turns to look at him, leaning on the sink.

               “Thanks,” he says, smiling. “Not everyone thinks that way.”

               When the chicken soup finishes cooking, Dowoon finishes it immediately, and when Younghyun asks if he got burned and he answers no, he can already tell he's lying.

 

               The rest of the day is spent in Dowoon’s room with Dowoon sleeping on his bed and Younghyun sitting on the floor and reading a _textbook_.

               Yeah, Younghyun’s also convinced that he's gone completely psycho, but we’ll talk about that in a little while.

               After Dowoon finished the last drops of Younghyun’s chicken soup, Younghyun had to force him to take a bath so he’d feel at least a little refreshed despite the overwhelming effects of a cough, a cold, and a fever; Dowoon had only agreed (albeit begrudgingly) when Younghyun threatened to give him a bath himself. After Younghyun helped Dowoon towel-dry his hair (because apparently the hairdryer was cursed and Younghyun would die before letting a sick boy sleep with wet hair), the boy had passed out on his bed, exhaustion taking over him.

               It was actually kind of funny how Dowoon immediately fell into Dreamland as soon as his head hit his pillow. For the past hour, Dowoon had been trying to convince him that he was doing alright but Younghyun knew nothing could be further from the truth: he looked like he had spent an hour in the Maze, another in the Forbidden Forest, and two in the Land of the Forgotten. But at least now he’s sleeping safe and sound.

               For about fourty-five minutes while Dowoon played dead, Younghyun passed the time playing a rhythm game on his phone (Dowoon had given him access to the wi-fi password) but soon lost interest when he finished all the daily missions plus the ones for the event. It was then that Younghyun remembered his bag, the textbook in it, and the reading assignment Mr. Kwon had assigned the day before.

               They were supposed to read up on some formulas they were going to use today, but Younghyun had forgotten all about it. He had figured he could read it at school, but then the Sick Dowoon Incident happened and any plans of productive reading had been thrown out of the window.

               But now that Younghyun has absolutely nothing to do, despite Dowoon having told him that he was allowed to read any novel (Younghyun has a very low attention span so he finds it difficult to get sucked into a story) or watch any movie he wants on the TV (Younghyun doesn't want the sounds of the movie to wake Dowoon up) or play a game on his Xbox (Younghyun is a very noisy gamer), there isn't anything valid for him to use as a reason to procrastinate. _Sigh._

               But he knows he has to do this. His grades _are_ dropping after all and there _is_ going to be a test in two weeks and Younghyun _still_ doesn't get anything, so he might as well try to. (Dad would be so proud.)

               However, after ten (seriously, _ten_ ) pages of reading and re-reading the same boring paragraphs and staring at the formula for the difference of means (Younghyun doesn't even know what mean _means_ ) on z-test and t-test “with v = (n1 \+ n2 \- 2) degrees of freedom” and earning himself a headache, Younghyun closes his textbook (quietly, because Dowoon is still sleeping) and groans internally, resting the back of his head on the edge of Dowoon’s bed.

               He wants to get better; he really does. That's why it's even more frustrating that he just _can’t._ Can't grasp the concepts as quickly as the other students, can't understand a single thing this stupid book is trying to say, can't tell the difference between X and × and x, can't even find the point of learning any of this.

               He stares at the clean ceiling above him for what feels like hours, submerging himself in his frustration and exasperation until it becomes almost background music to him. Until his hopelessness becomes a form of therapy, until his negativity becomes comfort for him. Until he's able to close his eyes and let out a sigh, the frustration coming out along with it.

_Ping!_

               The sound of his phone signaling a text message jerks him out of it, almost making him yell out in surprise. He looks quickly behind him—Dowoon is still asleep. Thank god.

               Younghyun pulls his phone—an old Android model he's had since middle school—and sees a message from Jieun, reading, _kang younghyun where did you kidnap my dowoonie im calling the police_

               Younghyun grins a little at that, though for some reason he finds Jieun adding “my” and “ie” to Dowoon’s name a little… not to his liking. He can't pinpoint why, though.

_at his house what u gon do abt it_ , he types. He almost immediately receives Jieun’s reply.

_tell you that mr. kwon’s convinced that you’re a bad influence on dowoonie and that the reason why the both of you are absent is because you forced him to skip class with you_

               Wow.

_i cant even w that. not my fault dowoon cant take care of himself when hes sick. hes got a cold, cough, AND fever, idek HOW_

_ever the caring friend. when are you two getting married?_

               Younghyun stares at Jieun’s second sentence, unable to come up with a reply.

               Which is weird because Younghyun’s never thought of marrying Dowoon. The reply should be easy, an unmistakable “never”.

               But he can't bring himself to type out the letters for some reason. “Never” felt… harsh. “Someday” feels like he'll come off weird, and “soon” is just… no. Just no.

               It's when Jieun sends another text, _younghyun? you still there? ‘cause if you arent I’ll just go back to eating happily without your presence,_ that Younghyun realizes that the question was rhetorical.

               With a burning face, Younghyun types in a _just thinking that itd probs be more likely for me and dowoon to get married than for you to ever_ and presses send, almost hastily. He locks his phone and sees an _at least I’ll be succesfu…_ appear on the top bar of the screen before putting his phone in his pocket.

               He sighs, leaning his head on the comfy bed.

               “Marriage, huh…” Younghyun says, then makes a face. “I sound like an old man.”

               In all his seventeen years of living, Younghyun’s never thought about that. I mean, he’s a teenager; why would a legally-still-a-baby ponder on the prospects of marriage, right? (And frankly, this progression is starting to get weird and messy.)

               The only dreams he's had were to finish high school, finish college, get a high-paying job to help his parents, and maybe be happy while doing it, too. He's never dreamed of having someone by his side, of someone he could call his other half, of slipping a ring onto someone’s ring finger while he kneels on one knee. (Rings are expensive, man. Expensive.)

               But as Younghyun stares at the blanket-covered figure sleeping peacefully on the bed as Younghyun sits on the floor with the forgotten textbook next to him, he suddenly gets a visual of waking up _next_ to said sleeping figure. Specifically, on a morning, around seven or eight, with the natural light of the sun passing through the windows. And even more specifically, with the tickle of his hair under Younghyun’s chin, a blanket covering the both of them with their legs tangled, and Younghyun’s arms wrapped protectively around—

               Younghyun shoots up from where he sat, erasing that thought and mechanically walking out of Dowoon’s room to his lounge and sitting on the couch there. He gets the urge to bang his head against one of the books on the shelves but that would be a disrespect to Dowoon’s property so he walks back in the room, grabs the textbook from the floor, goes back to the lounge, and bangs the book against his face.

               God, what is Younghyun thinking? Waking up next to Dowoon in a more-than-a-somewhat-friend-that-Dowoon-likes-to-deny way? How is he going to face him now?

               This is all Jieun’s fault. Now Younghyun can't look at Dowoon without being reminded of that brief thought of them waking up together. Younghyun’s certain his cheeks are going to keep burning up at even just the slight mention of him now (not that that wasn't a common occurrence already, but Younghyun likes to be in denial).

               Younghyun throws the textbook to the side and runs both of his hands across his burning face. He lets out a deep breath and stares up at the ceiling, feeling like he just ran a marathon of feelings.

               It’s fine. It's _fine_. That was just… an experience that could’ve applied even if it _wasn’t_ Dowoon he had been thinking about.

               Yeah. Definitely. If he had been thinking about Kim Wonpil, or Jieun’s best friend Jaehyung, or heck, even Mr. Kwon, he'd probably be blushing mad the same!

               “Younghyun?”

               “I AM SORRY TO HAVE FORSAKEN YOU MY VERY GREAT FRIEND,” Younghyun all but yells in his surprise, shooting up from where he sat on the couch, whirling around and expecting Dowoon to be standing there.

               But all he stares at is an archway and all he hears is a tiny, “Why are you so noisy?” coming from it.

               Younghyun sighs of relief, entering through the archway and mentally scolding himself for being an idiot.

               Dowoon is currently sitting himself up on his bed, hair a mess and eyes half-closed, probably still half-asleep. Younghyun thinks it's endearing and smiles as he pulls up Dowoon’s chair to sit on it.

               “Sorry,” he apologizes, watching Dowoon rub his eyes. “I was… um… taking care of business.”

               “Ew, gross. You come into my house—”

               “No, that's not what I—” Younghyun splutters, another wave of heat washing over his face.

               Dowoon laughs a tiny bit, just a breath of laughter and a small smile, but still mischievous enough to make Younghyun frown, pout even.

               “Did you learn this behavior from Jieun?” he asks. “She is such a bad influence on you.”

               “Better her than you,” Dowoon says. Younghyun notices that the croakiness in his voice is almost gone.

               “How’re you feeling?” he asks.

               “A lot better, actually,” Dowoon says, face now back to his usual poker face. “I still have a sore throat and my body still aches, but I’m definitely healthier now.”

               Younghyun presses a palm to Dowoon’s forehead and smiles.

               “Yeah, your fever’s almost completely down now,” he says, putting his hand down. “Though you still have that cough and cold. Rest a bit and I’ll make you porridge, yeah?”

               Younghyun doesn't know why, but when Dowoon doesn't reply, he waits for one.

               “Uh, to be honest, I’ve…” Dowoon starts, and Younghyun is surprised that he actually _is_ going to reply. “… never gotten this better this quick.”

               “Really?” Younghyun leans back on the chair. “How does it usually go?”

               “It lasts for more than a day, actually. Sometimes, three.” Dowoon sniffles and Younghyun is already grabbing the tissue paper.

               “But you've never been absent before?” Younghyun asks after Dowoon finishes sneezing.

               Dowoon hesitates before answering.

               “That's because…” He sighs. “… I always attend school even when I’m sick.”

               It takes three beats.

               “What!” Younghyun shouts, and Dowoon winces.

               “God, I knew you'd be like that,” Dowoon mutters.

               “That's why you're so weak all the time,” Younghyun says, frowning, ignoring Dowoon’s glare. “But what do you usually do when you're sick?”

               “Sleep it out,” Dowoon says. “And just wait for it to go away, I guess.”

               Younghyun buries his head in his hands. This boy is a detriment to himself.

               “You don't have to act so… despaired about it,” Dowoon says, and Younghyun looks up at him between his fingers. “It's nothing.”

               “When have I ever thought of you as ‘nothing’?” Younghyun blurts out before he can stop himself, putting his hands down and looking at Dowoon.

               Dowoon’s eyes go a tad wider at that, and Younghyun feels a blush spreading across his face.

               “I just…” He sighs, leaning back into the chair. He scratches the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I care about you. Like, a lot.”

               Dowoon furrows his eyebrows then, his initial surprise turning into analytical confusion.  “But… but why?”

               Younghyun smiles and shrugs; as if he knows the answer to that, too. He reaches over to ruffle Dowoon’s hair.

               “I just do. Now get some rest and I’ll bring over some porridge in a little while, alright?” he says.

               Dowoon mutters something inaudible, probably an insult, and Younghyun leaves the room quickly.

               He tells himself it's to be able to make the food as soon as possible, but he can't deny that the pinkish blush that appeared on Dowoon’s face might have had something to do with it.

 

When Dowoon wakes up that evening while Younghyun is busy watching a compilation of Twice Cute Moments on his phone, he looks almost-completely recovered, much to Younghyun’s smile .

               As Dowoon downs the noodle soup Younghyun had prepared beforehand, the latter looks out the floor-to-ceiling window to see the sky already a dark shade of blue and purple, the sun already having dipped down the horizon to let the moon have its turn to brighten up the sky.

               “It’s late,” Younghyun says, standing up from his seat and pocketing his phone, making sure to put the unfinished video under Watch Later. “I should get going.”

               “No,” Dowoon suddenly blurts out, and Younghyun stops moving in surprise. He stares at Dowoon, whose eyes start shifting in a way he's never seen before.

               “I mean,” Dowoon explains, “it’s already late. Like you said. It's probably safer if you just stayed.”

               Younghyun lets that process for a few moments before sitting back down on the chair and smiling.

               “Well, I don't really mind,” he finally says. “This entire house is a lot comfier than my bed anyway.”

               He pulls out his phone from his pocket, the notifications of which are filled with unread messages from Jieun and updates on his favorite band, and presses in a familiar number.

               The voice that he hears from his phone brings a smile to his face.

               “ _Younghyun? Why are you calling? Are you coming home late? I thought the music club only meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays._ ”

               “Nothing like that, mom,” Younghyun says. He sees Dowoon widen his eyes at “mom” and Younghyun smiles to himself.

               “ _Oh? Well, what is it?_ ” his mom asks, and Younghyun can hear the light clanking of metal against metal; she’s probably preparing dinner. “ _I cooked Dad’s favorite this time. When I told him earlier, he immediately asked Mr. Joo if he could leave work early. I think he told him that he needed to attend our cat’s funeral._ ” She laughs, and Younghyun thinks it might be as beautiful as Dowoon’s. “ _We don't even have a cat_.”

               “Even if we did, I don't think Mr. Joo would let him out early,” Younghyun says, and his mother laughs at that.

               “ _So? Why did my beloved son decide to call his beautiful mother on the phone?_ ”

               “I was actually wondering if you would let me stay over at a friend’s house tonight,” he explains.

               “ _You have friends?_ ”

               He hears Dowoon snort and he realizes that he can probably hear her side of the conversation as well as his.

               “Yes, mom, I do. Surprise,” he says to the phone with a deadpan expression, even though he knows she can't see him. “I’m at his house, actually. Just asking for your permission to stay.”

               “His _?_ ” His mother had actually _exclaimed_ the word, and Younghyun feels his cheeks burn up. He had told them he was into guys around middle school, which they cooly accepted and which he is _extremely_ grateful for.

               Except in moments like this.

               “Not like…” He glances at Dowoon, who has his eyebrows furrowed, probably confused at his mother’s statement. “Not like _that_ ,” he hisses. He then continues out loud, “Anyway, um, is it cool with you?”

               “ _Of course, honey. It’s about time you hang out with people your age instead of worrying about taxes_ ,” she says happily and Younghyun rolls his eyes. “ _Sometimes, you're more adult than me and Dad_.”

               “You'd think it should be the other way around,” he says, shaking his head.

               “ _Ooh, is your friend there? Can I speak to him?_ ” she asks, excited.

               “Uh…” he starts, not knowing what to say. He looks at Dowoon, who looks as clueless as he feels. “Yeah, he’s here, but…”

               “ _Great! Hand over the phone, Younghyunnie_.”

               As much as Younghyun doesn't want to, he never disobeys his mother.

               “Uh… hello?” Dowoon says timidly, holding onto Younghyun’s phone and looking like he's lost in the middle of nowhere. “This is Younghyun’s… friend.”

               “ _Hello! This is his mom_ ,” Younghyun hears from the phone. It’s faint, but since the room is quiet and his mom’s voice is naturally loud, he can hear every word. “ _What's your name, sweetie?_ ”

               “Yoon Dowoon, Ma’am…” he trails off.

               “ _Well, Dowoon-ah, I hope Younghyunnie takes care of you well and doesn't cause much trouble at your house. Thank you for looking out for him_.”

               “I-it’s nothing…”

               “ _Oh, don't say that! Tell you what, come over at our house sometime; I’d love to get to know you better_.”

“You don't have to…”

               “ _Of course, we do! Think of it as our thanks for letting Younghyunnie in for the night. I have to go now since I’m cooking right now, but I hope to have a longer conversation with you soon, Dowoon-ah!_ ”

               And with that, the phone call comes to a close.

               “Sorry about my mom,” Younghyun immediately says. “It’s been a long time since she's met a friend, so she tends to be like that.”

               “You don't need to apologize,” Dowoon says, and the slightest smile appears on his face. “I love her.”

               A grin spreads across Younghyun’s face and he stands up.

               “Well, since I got her permission to stay over at your house, I guess I should take a bath first,” he says. “Got any spare clothes?”

***

After taking a bath and changing into Dowoon’s clothes (a white t-shirt and a pair of pants), Dowoon hands him a spare pillow from his cabinet.

               “I don't know how you can handle the hairdryer,” Dowoon comments. “I can't stand it.”

               “As long as it doesn't get me sick in the night, I’ll take anything.” Younghyun shrugs.

               He notices Dowoon staring at something on his body and he glances down—nothing but his bare arms hugging a pillow. He can proudly say he’s developed some muscle from some of his part-time jobs and because his father insists on keeping the family fit. He glances back up.

               “What are you looking at?” he asks.

               “Nothing,” Dowoon says, oddly quickly before turning away.

               “So, where do I sleep?” he asks Dowoon as the latter sits on his bed.

               “Um… well, I’d tell you to sleep in the room next to this one but that's where she sleeps.” He scratches the back of his neck. “And she only lets family members or people from her business stay in the other bedrooms whenever they come over, so…”

               Their gazes settle on the bed Dowoon is sitting on. Younghyun notices the hesitance in Dowoon’s face.

               “It’s fine,” he says quickly, and Dowoon looks up at that. “I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything like that. I’ll just sleep on the couch, yeah?”

               “Are you sure?” Dowoon asks.

               The image that he conjured earlier because of Jieun’s question of him waking up next to Dowoon pops up in his mind.

               “Yes,” he says with no hesitation, then corrects himself when he realizes that might have seemed rude. “Well, I mean, it’d be nice to sleep on a bed, but if you're going to feel uncomfortable about it, I’d rather not.” He shrugs. “Besides, I’m sure the couch is better than my own bed, anyway. Good night, Dowoon.”

               Without another word, he leaves Dowoon’s room-in-a-room and sits down at the couch in his lounge area. He places the pillow against the armrest and moves to lie down before he notices movement to his left.

               He turns to see Dowoon leaning on the doorway to his bedroom, eyes shifting like before.

               “Aren't you going to sleep?” Younghyun asks, already half-lying down.

               Dowoon doesn't speak for a while.

               “The…” he finally starts. “The last time I slept on the couch, my back started aching.”

               A smile spreads across Younghyun’s face.

               “So you don't mind if I sleep next to you?” he asks, hopeful for some reason.

               “I think the reason why I don't mind is because it _is_ you,” Dowoon mutters.

               Younghyun watches with his mouth open in shock as an equally surprised expression slowly appears its way on Dowoon’s face, eyes widening and a pink tinge spreading across his face as he realizes what he just said.

               “I changed my mind; just sleep on the couch,” he says quickly before turning around and leaving.

               As Younghyun’s initial shock dims down, he starts to smile in disbelief, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the situation.

               He grabs his pillow and practically runs into Dowoon’s bedroom.

 

“Is he alright?”

               “I don't think so. I think he's crying, actually.”

               “Poor baby. Maybe if we buy him a bag of chocolate he’ll feel better.”

               “Or better yet, a passing grade.”

               “Shh, we shouldn't kick a dog while he's down.”

               “I can hear the both of you _loud_ and _clear_ ,” Younghyun says loudly, turning to look and glare at Jieun and Dowoon, who stand behind him and look as if they've done nothing wrong.

               They're each holding a sheet of paper, Jieun’s 46/50 and Dowoon’s 50/50 like a slap to his face. Meanwhile his own 13/50 is looking up at him in the sheet he holds in his hands, shaking its head in disappointment.

               Looking at it makes him groan out loud again, burying his face into the armchair.

               “Should we comfort him?” Jieun asks Dowoon.

               “I’d rather you _not_ ,” Younghyun says with gritted teeth.

               He feels a hand on his shoulder anyway. “It’s alright, Younghyun,” Jieun says in mock-consolation. “You can always pursue business.”

               Younghyun slaps Jieun’s hand away angrily, glaring at her.

               “First off, that is an insult to the business career, and second, I just don't _get_ it!” he says, frustrated. “I've read literally everything on the textbook, copied down Dowoon’s notes _and_ yours, and listened to every word Mr. Kwon says in his stupid boring voice, but I _still_ don't understand a thing.”

               He plants his face on the chair, making his voice muffled.

               “I don't even know what Analysis of Variance is _for_ ,” he says, almost sounding like a hopeless sob.

               After a few minutes of Younghyun’s muffled whining, he senses movement to his left.

               “Uh…” It’s Dowoon. “I could teach you, if you want?”

               Younghyun turns his head, keeping it attached to the table, and looks up at Dowoon, who's seated on the armchair of the seat to his left.

               “I think the reason why you keep failing is ‘cause you don't understand the lesson,” he says.

               “You think?”

               Dowoon glares at him. “No, I mean that you don’t _understand_ it. You've been memorizing the words on the notes and the textbook but you don't really understand what they're for or what purpose they have.”

               “Yeah, I don't really get why we have to learn all this,” Younghyun agrees, removing his face from the table.

               “But I think I can help you,” Dowoon says, and when he does, Younghyun swears that something lights up in his eyes. Like he's excited about it. Younghyun finds it endearing. “I can break it down to simpler terms to make it easier for you.”

               “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” Jieun says, sitting on the armchair on Younghyun’s seat. “This is just a formative assessment; the real test is in a week, right? I think with Dowoonnie’s help, you can actually pass this subject.”

               With the progress he's had, he thinks he really, _badly_ needs it.

               “Is it really fine with you?” Younghyun asks Dowoon.

               Dowoon nods. “Think of it as thanks for… when I was sick,” he says, the last part coming out a little quieter.

               Younghyun smiles.

               “So your place or mine?”

 

They'd ended up deciding on having the tutoring session at Younghyun’s apartment because Dowoon’s mom was planning on bringing some employees over for some business meeting over the weekend. Dowoon hadn't wanted to deal with that so Younghyun had to ask his parents if they were cool with him staying overnight for the weekend.

               They were, except they were _too_ excited about it.

               It was like the Queen of England or Gong Yoo was coming over and not a seventeen-year-old boy. His mom had cooked two meals too many, and his dad had cleaned every single inch of their apartment clean. Younghyun had had to fix his own room twice that day because his dad had thought that the curtains looked a bit too lopsided or that the bed sheet wasn't straight enough or that the mirror looked too shiny even though everything was _fine_. And his mom had him go out to the supermarket _again_ because she kept adding ingredients to the meals and switching things up. His only excuse to escape this torture came in the form of Dowoon texting him that he was standing by the convenience store near their apartment.

               Needless to say, he bolted out of there as soon as he told them Dowoon had arrived.

               “I swear it’s hell up there,” Younghyun is saying, leading Dowoon up the staircase. The latter is carrying a bag filled with things he probably needs for the tutoring and the sleepover. “It’s like they think your EXO or something. Or Barack Obama.”

               “I feel special already,” Dowoon says below him on the stairs.

               Younghyun sighs. Even though he feels annoyed at his parents for being so stressed out about this, he can't deny that he feels the same, to a degree.

               “Now, uh,” he starts with a cough as they head a floor up, “my apartment isn't really as fancy as your house, and as you can see, the tenants don't really maintain this building, so it's really not that clean…”

               He can't deny that he's scared of what Dowoon might think of his living situation. I mean, he trusts that Dowoon won't judge him for it, but he knows that he's used to all that fancy furniture and the high-class lifestyle, so he can't help the fear he has.

               “Our place is pretty cramped compared to yours, so you might have to get used to it, and we don't really have a big living room or a TV so there really isn't much to do, unless you wanna read Dad’s construction manua—no, of course, you don't. Anyway, I understand if you may not like it at first, especially since my bed isn’t as big as y—”

               “Younghyun?”

               “Yes?” It came out as a tiny squeak, and Younghyun figures that anything that might have convinced Dowoon that he _wasn’t_ nervous had been thrown out the window with that tiny sound.

               “Do you look forward to going to your apartment every day after school?” Dowoon asks, the both of them still walking up.

               Younghyun furrows his eyebrows. That's a weird question. But he answers anyway.

               “Yeah.”

               “Do you have a lot of good memories of it?”

               He remembers when his mom freaked his dad out when he came over from work to find the both of them covered in red food coloring when he was eight. And the time Younghyun made his first chicken soup with his dad for his mom when she had a fever when he was twelve.

               “Yeah,” he answers quietly.

               “Then I love your home already,” Dowoon says.

               Younghyun smiles and doesn't say anything until he reaches the door.

***

Younghyun’s mom and dad greet Dowoon almost as soon as Younghyun opens the door, practically pulling him into the apartment before Dowoon could protest and leaving Younghyun out in the hallway, shaking his head and predicting how this weekend is going to turn out.

               When he walks in, he finds his parents fussing over Dowoon, asking him how his day was, how he's doing at school, how he met Younghyun, if Younghyun was being a good friend, etc. The poor boy isn't even able to voice an answer before another question pops up, most of them coming from Younghyun’s dad, actually.

               Younghyun grabs Dowoon’s hand and pulls him next to him before things can get worse from here.

               “Mom, Dad,” he says, looking at the both of them. “Dowoon literally just got here. At least give him some room to breathe, please?”

               The two of them exchange a look, sending each other a message that only the two of them can decipher, finally giving Dowoon some space.

               His dad is tall and lean, but muscular and tan because of his work, his hair cut short to keep things simple and so he wouldn't have anything getting in his eyes when he's busy carrying bars of steel at the carpentry job. His mom also sports a simple hairstyle, just cut off a little over her shoulders and tied in a low ponytail. Both of them have wrinkles around their eyes and a bit more on Younghyun’s mom’s hands, but there is no denying the youthful energy in their eyes, and in their smiles as they exchange a knowing look.

               “Whatever you say, Younghyunnie,” his dad says, a smile on his face.

               “We’ll just prepare the table, then, while you two talk a bit,” his mother says, too, before giggling and pushing her husband away to the kitchen.

               Younghyun furrows his eyebrows. Now that was weird. Maybe Younghyun actually having a friend finally turned them crazy?

               “Younghyun?” Dowoon asks beside him.

               “Yeah?” he asks, turning to him.

               “You're still holding my hand,” he points out, putting it up so Younghyun can see.

               Oh. That's why.

 

Before Dowoon is to tutor Younghyun and finally make him get out of this hellhole he calls a failing grade, his parents had insisted that they eat lunch first, sitting in the middle of what passes off as the dining room.

               Younghyun’s entire apartment is made up of two rooms plus one bathroom: as soon as you walk in you are immediately greeted by a pale rectangular foldable table surrounded with about four chairs that came with the set. The floors are made up tile (which Younghyun’s dad had painstakingly polished with his own bare hands and a damp piece of cloth) and the walls are a simple white, painted by Younghyun and his mom themselves. Cabinets built into the wall and a plastic drawer they had bought when Younghyun was nine are to the left, and a row of shelves stuck to the wall that are filled with a collection of Dad’s manuals, second-hand recipe books, and Younghyun’s textbooks from previous years are to the right.

               Looking forward you can see a small section isolated from the rest by a short divider (it reaches up to Younghyun’s torso) which is the kitchen of this apartment. A rack containing a pot, and a few plates, cups, and bowls rests flat against the walls next to the to the gas range, which is situated directly below the open window. To the right of that is the sink, and on the wall hangs several pans and other kitchenware.

               To the right of the kitchen is the door leading to the bathroom, and to the left is an archway leading to Younghyun’s own room, which we won't see until later.

               Currently, they’re all seated in the middle of the main section of the apartment, the table filled with more food than Younghyun has ever seen his mom _or_ dad make.

               “Wow, am I getting married?” Younghyun jokingly asks, eyes still staring in awe at the meals presented. Fish, chicken, soup, steamed vegetables, rice, condiments, sauces—this might as well be Younghyun’s parting gift.

               “Oh, please, your marriage wouldn't be nearly as fancy as this,” his mom retorts, and he hears Dowoon snort beside him and Younghyun smiles. (They're seated across Younghyun’s parents.)

               “Well, then, let’s eat,” his dad says, and they all start digging in to the food, conversing along the way.

               The conversation is mostly a Q & A between Younghyun’s parents and Dowoon, with Younghyun making comments every now and then. They ask him about school, about his favorite things, any interests, hobbies, options for the future—and Younghyun listens to every word Dowoon says. He finds out that Dowoon’s favorite color is green, that he likes to read novels and comic books, that he’s always been a light eater since childhood, that his favorite food is samgyetang, that he rarely leaves home, that he doesn’t have much plans for the future yet.

               With every timid word that comes out of Dowoon’s mouth, Younghyun can feel himself knowing him more, wanting to memorize every single thing about him and make sure to never forget it. And with every tiny smile that Dowoon sends his parents’ way, Younghyun feels a warmth spread in his chest, elated and so, so happy.

               They soon finish lunch, each plate almost as empty as when it had been sitting prettily in the racks.

               Which leads to a problem: who will wash them?

               “I’ll go wash the dishes,” Younghyun’s mother offers, moving to stand up, but then his dad stops her.

               “Honey, it’s fine. You've been cooking all day. I’ll do it instead,” he says.

               “Honey, you've been cleaning the entire _house_ all day,” his mother counters.

               “Um,” Dowoon timidly starts, “I’m fine with doing it, instead. I’m the reason why you even prepared so much.”

               Before the two of them can tell Dowoon that he's the guest and the guest should be served by the hosts and yadda, yadda, yadda, Younghyun suddenly stands up from where he sat.

               “Okay, first off, none of you are going to wash the dishes,” he says, and when he sees them about to protest he immediately says, “Mom, Dad’s right; you've been cooking all day and need to rest. And Dad, Mom’s right; you need to rest, too. And Dowoon, I’d let you but you don't even know _how_ to wash the dishes. And don't deny it—I saw you fill the entire pot with dishwashing liquid when I visited last time.”

               “I thought it wasn't enough,” Dowoon mumbles.

               “Any objections?” Younghyun addresses his family (and Dowoon).

               Seeing that no one is able to rebut Younghyun’s argument, he picks up the dishes and brings them over to the sink.

               He’s already halfway through when someone suddenly stands next to him, and he glances to see it’s Dowoon.

               “What is it?” he asks, still lathering the spoons with the dishwashing liquid. “Have my parents finally tired you out from asking so many questions?”

               “I think, yeah,” Dowoon mumbles, turning around and leaning his back against the counter / gas range.

               “Sorry,” Younghyun apologizes, a small smile on his face. “They're just really happy you're here. I think they're hoping you’ll be their son-in-law or something.”

               Dowoon suddenly bursts into a fit of coughs, and Younghyun stops washing the dishes in surprise. He’s about to pat Dowoon’s back before he realizes his hands are still covered in soap. But Dowoon’s already recovering.

               “Are you okay?” Younghyun watches as Dowoon straightens his back, coughing a little now and then.

               “Yeah,” he mutters, clearing his throat. “Uh… where did you hear that?”

               Younghyun blinks. “You mean the son-in-law thing? Heard my mom talking about it to my dad the other day.”

               “And you have no siblings?”

               Weird subject change, but,

               “Nope. Why?” Younghyun asks.

               “Nothing.”

               For some reason, a light blush had appeared on Dowoon’s cheeks, but Younghyun decides to ignore it (and how Dowoon looks so cute with it) to pursue his dream of finishing the dishes.

               They stand next to each other for a comfortable while, neither of them speaking while Younghyun gives the pot a bath. His parents finished wiping the table a while ago, his mom reading her unfinished book about gardening and his dad writing something in his bullet journal (he’d started it a month ago).

               “How do you know if it’s enough?”

               Younghyun glances up to see Dowoon staring down in concentration at the sink with furrowed eyebrows as the former pours down a line of liquid onto the sponge.

               Younghyun smiles and glances back down at his work.

               “You just do,” he says, pouring down a few more lines. “Though sometimes I just play around when I’m bored.”

               And he quickly erases the “도운” he wrote in blue dishwashing liquid against the smooth metal surface of the pot.

 

“Where have you been all my life?” Younghyun asks.

               Dowoon tears his eyes away from the textbook on his lap and looks at Younghyun with the most deadpan expression he can muster.

               “Sitting next to you and watching you fail at everything,” he says.

               The two of them are sitting on the floor by Younghyun’s bed, a few textbooks and a couple notebooks and pencil cases on the floor with them. Dowoon had just explained what t-test is to Younghyun, and the latter is convinced that the boy in front of him is a saint. Or a goblin. Or a wizard. Or all three.

               “Dude, why didn’t I notice you sooner?” Younghyun says, incredulous. “Honestly, what the hell!”

               It was like finally being able to decipher an ancient code unsolved for centuries: all the words on Younghyun’s textbook finally made actual _sense_. He finally knows what everything _means_. And most importantly, what _mean_ means. It means average! This entire time it was just _average_!

               “So like t-test is just supposed to show whether something is different from another thing or not?” Younghyun asks, looking up at Dowoon looking back at him with an unreadable expression. “It’s like a formula to show differences and stuff?”

               “Basically, yeah.” Dowoon nods.

               “Why would you need a formula, though?” Younghyun asks, turning back to a page depicting an example problem. “I mean, Group A has a mean of 23.34 and Group B has 24.01, right? Obviously, they're not the same number.”

               “But the thing is t-test tests whether two values are _significantly_ different from each other,” Dowoon explains. “For example, imagine if you had a bowl of chocolates—let’s say fifty pieces. If I took one or two chocolates, would you notice?”

               Younghyun thinks about it. “Probably, no. Unless I count every time, but who would do that?”

               Dowoon rolls his eyes. “Noted,” he says, sarcastically. “But what if I take ten? Or fifteen?”

               Younghyun furrows his eyebrows. “I’d say I’d be offended but I’d give you all of them, to be honest.”

               “ _Younghyun_.”

               “Okay, uh, I guess I’d be able to tell?” Younghyun says.

               “That's because the number of chocolates left in the bowl and the number of chocolates that used to be there are _significantly different_ ,” Dowoon says. “Fifty chocolates and forty chocolates are significantly different from each other, but fifty chocolates and forty-nine chocolates aren't.”

               “ _Ohhh_ ,” Younghyun all but exclaims. “ _That’s_ why they keep repeating ‘significant’ all the time. So they just came up with a formula to solve all this? _Amazing_.”

               He hears Dowoon sigh.

                “To be honest, Younghyun, I knew you were bad in inferential statistics but I didn't know you were _this_ bad,” Dowoon says and Younghyun looks up. “We've been using mean and mode since _first year_. How on earth have you survived almost three years of high school without knowing just this much?”

               “God always has a plan,” Younghyun says, turning back to the book.

               For so long this subject had been nothing but a source of headache for Younghyun, a messy jumble of numbers and letters and fractions and tables and graphs and everything that didn't make sense to Younghyun. It had been one of the reasons why Younghyun dreaded school—to be reminded again and again that he sucked at it. That he wasn't as smart as the other kids. That he was the kid that everyone wouldn't expect to even pass the class. Even if he tried so hard. Even if he did all he could.

               Because Younghyun would never have gotten tired if he had never tried.

               But now, with Dowoon explaining everything to him, pressing a finger on the pages of the textbook, asking Younghyun questions to help him get to the answer; with Dowoon rolling his eyes whenever Younghyun missed an obvious answer, smiling a little when he got one right; with Dowoon sitting across him on the floor, textbooks and multiple jokes exchanged between them, and an ever-present smile on Younghyun’s face, he feels that maybe it isn't too late to try again.

               “You forgot to get the square root,” Dowoon points out, and Younghyun snaps out of his sappy internal monologue to look down at his notebook.

               “Oh, right,” Younghyun says, correcting his mistake with correction tape and blue ink. “Honestly, Dowoon? You’re amazing.”

               “It’s nothing much.” Dowoon shrugs.

               “No, seriously, you're amazing,” Younghyun says, looking into Dowoon’s eyes with as much sincerity he can put into his gaze. “I’ve literally never understood a single word Mr. Kwon has said since the first day. And I've tried—don't look at me like that, I have—but it’s like, I dunno, like I’ve been staring at this big door that can only open with some riddle. But then you come in with a key and everything suddenly makes _sense_.”

               Dowoon doesn't say anything but there's a small smile on his face. Younghyun smiles, too.

               “Seriously, you know, if you taught every student at school, they'd all probably end up with high marks,” Younghyun says, completely serious.

               A weird look suddenly passes over Dowoon’s face, sheepish and hesitant, like he wants to say something but doesn't know if he should. Also that he's trying to hide that there's something he wants to say.

               “… What is it?” Younghyun asks, tilting his head down to get a better look at Dowoon’s face.

               “… To be honest,” Dowoon starts, and a blush spreads across his face, covering his ears. “… I’ve been thinking that I want to be a teacher.”

               “Really?” Younghyun asks, a smile spreading across his face as he says it.

               Dowoon nods a little, not looking at him.

               “That's great!” Younghyun says, leaning against his bed with a grin. “I can totally see you be a teacher.”

               “You don't think…” Dowoon glances up at him, a little surprised. “You know… you don't think it's a waste?”

               A ‘waste’? “What do you mean?”

               “I don't know… We had that career assessment before, right? The teachers all think I should become an engineer or something. Or a lawyer. But when they heard I wanted to be a teacher, they said it was a waste of talent.” Dowoon’s eyes shift between Younghyun and the floor. “You really don't think so?”

               Younghyun feels something swell up inside of him. An urge to suddenly hug Dowoon and never let go. To reach over with a hand and ruffle his hair. And for some reason, to grab his cheeks and squeeze really, really hard.

               So he does exactly that. Squeeze his cheeks, I mean.

               “What are you doing?” Dowoon hisses, visibly annoyed and trying to pull Younghyun’s hands down but unable to.

               Instead of replying, Younghyun pushes Dowoon’s cheeks closer to each other, making his lips push out like a fish.

               “ _Younghyun, I swear to god_ —”

               “I don't think anything you do is a waste of time,” Younghyun says, quietly.

               Younghyun puts his hands down slowly and Dowoon stares at him with wide eyes, his initial annoyance washing away.

               Then Younghyun smiles, leaning on the edge of his bed, relaxed.

               “Besides, how do you think engineers become engineers in the first place?” he says. “It’s not like they instantly knew how to design computers—they had to learn that. And who else is gonna teach them if not teachers? Teachers are just as important as anyone else.”

               Dowoon doesn't say anything. Just looks at Younghyun with an unreadable expression.

               Then he smiles.

               He smiles and it’s wide and real and genuine. He smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle. He smiles and a faint blush               seeps into his cheeks. He smiles the way he smiled when Younghyun brought him to the rooftop and it’s even more beautiful than before because it’s a smile directed at him. A smile for him.

               “Thank you,” Dowoon says, smiling, and Younghyun knows he won't forget it.

 

“I think we're good for today,” Dowoon says, closing the textbook. “We've been studying for five hours.”

               “Yeah, I think my head’s going to explode,” Younghyun agrees, happy to put away all the junk on the floor. “No matter how good a teacher is, a student always has his limits.”

               They put away their stuff and Younghyun brings over the tray of snacks his mom brought over to them a few hours ago. He finds her in the middle of cooking dinner with his dad, fussing over whether or not they should add more spices.

               “Dowoon likes food more on the milder side,” Younghyun tells them.

               “Really?” his dad asks.

               Younghyun hums in affirmation. He had noticed it from the kind of lunch Dowoon usually brings to school.

               “He's not a big eater, either. But he really likes fruit, oranges especially.” Jieun had brought an entire box of oranges to school one day (“Please, don't ask why.”) and Dowoon had absentmindedly eaten almost half of it.

               “He should eat more,” his mom says, putting a hand on her cheek. “He's so thin and frail. You said he's sickly, right?” she asks Younghyun.

               “Yeah. But he's actually pretty okay as long as he doesn't forget to turn off the AC.”

               “Younghyun-ah,” his dad says, “take care of him well. I like this boy a lot. Very kind and respects his elders well.”

               “He’s the perfect son-in-law!” his mom exclaims, clasping her hands. She turns to her husband. “Honey, we have to save up well for the wedding.”

               “Who's he getting married to?” Younghyun asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. For some reason, the idea of Dowoon getting married to someone is… not his liking.

               His parents send each other a look. Then his mom rolls her eyes and his dad addresses him,

               “Someone who doesn't deserve him.”

               Younghyun returns to his room with a tray full of cookies, orange juice, and the feeling of being very, very confused.

               “What’s wrong?” Dowoon asks, noticing Younghyun’s unsure expression as he sits down in front of him and puts the tray on a low table.

               “I… I don't know,” Younghyun says, honestly. Then he shakes his head and shrugs. “Anyway, mom says dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.”

               “Your mom is a really good cook,” Dowoon says. “And your dad, too.”

               “Aren't they?” Younghyun grins, feeling pride swell in him. “Dad actually wanted to become a chef when he was a kid. Wanted to put up his own restaurant and all that.”

               “Why didn't he?” Dowoon asks.

               The question sends a pang if pain to Younghyun’s chest. He tries a smile.

               “They had me.”

               Dowoon doesn't say anything, and Younghyun guesses it's because he doesn't know what to say.

               “I know it's not my fault,” Younghyun says, looking at the floor. There's a tremor to his voice, at his fingertips. “And they told me it wasn't. But the guilt’s still there. They had so many dreams and so many things they wanted to do, but because I came into their life with no warning they had to give all that up.

               “I just… I keep thinking how it'd be like if I wasn't here. How they'd be happier and more successful. How they'd probably be living in a much bigger house instead of a one-room apartment. How they'd be able to pursue the dreams they wanted to achieve since they were kids.

               “I love them. So much. They sacrificed everything just so I could have a good life. They even gave the only room in this apartment to me so I could sleep comfortably. I just… wish I could earn enough so they could finally see their dreams turn into reality. So I could stop being their burden.”

               Silence follows. Younghyun doesn't know what kind of face Dowoon is making; he's too busy staring at his hands.

               “Your father,” Dowoon starts, “told me that he was happy you were able to find a friend who wanted to help you in your studies.”

               Younghyun doesn't look up.

               “While you were washing the dishes, he told me that you were always too busy worrying about family matters that you couldn't find time to worry about yourself. That the only time you ever do find time for yourself is when you go to the arcade, and that you even limit yourself when it comes to that.

               “And your mother told me that she wasn't worried whether or not you would be a good friend to me because she knows you're the kindest and most thoughtful person in the world. Even though you come off as not.

               “She told me that there's nothing more she wants for you than to be happy. And that if you were, then she would be, too.

               “They told me that me being your friend was the second-best thing that happened in their life.”

               “… What's the _best_ thing?” Younghyun asks, finally looking up.

               “Having you.”

               Younghyun feels his lips tremble and something wet his eyes, overcome with emotion. He wipes them away with the back of his hand, and feels a smile coming up.

               “Typical for them to say something like that to the first friend who comes over to this house,” he says, laughing. He wipes his nose. “I should warn Jieun.”

               “I think Jieun would be a lot more talkative than me, I think,” Dowoon says. “She'd probably _ask_ for something like that.”

               “I am so not letting her visit.”

               The next few minutes are filled with cookie-eating and talking about other stuff while Younghyun calms down. He made sure to wipe some water on his eyes so it wouldn't be too obvious that he cried.                  

               “Why are you so good at school, anyway?” Younghyun asks, finishing his orange juice. “You get perfect at literally everything.”

               “It’s just… really interesting to me.” Dowoon shrugs. “Ever since I was a kid, I was obsessed with fun facts and trivias—about anything. I liked learning. And I like knowing. Which is also why I started to like teaching. Because… because I want someone else to like learning, too.”

               Younghyun smiles. “You are so pure.”

               Dowoon glares at him before rolling his eyes. “How about you? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

               “Actually…” Younghyun scratches the back of his neck. “I want to be a musician.”

               Dowoon looks surprised at that. “A musician?”

               Younghyun nods. “Maybe solo or duo. Or even in a band.”

               “You play an instrument?”

               Younghyun grins and stands up, moving over to the other side of his bed. An acoustic guitar and an electric bass stand next to each other. He grabs the guitar and moves over to where Dowoon is still sitting on the ground.

               “This one used to be my mom’s,” he tells him, sitting down. “She also wanted to be a singer when she was young. She got this when she was in college. Look here.”

               He turns the guitar over to show words carved rather messily into the wood.

               “‘ _Joonyoung heart Hyunjoon_ ’?” Dowoon reads.

               “Mom is Hyunjoon and Dad is Joonyoung. She carved this into the guitar when she was in college. She told me that she had the biggest crush on my dad but didn't know how to confess,” he says, laughing. “In the end, she burst into the room where Dad was having a class and yelled out ‘Kang Joonyoung, you are my boyfriend starting from today!’”

               The both of them laugh at that.

               “Your mom is amazing,” Dowoon says.

               “Actually, she was just planning on saying something like, ‘Will you go out with me?’ or ‘I like you,’ but she flat-out ended up announcing he was her boyfriend,” Younghyun laughs.

               “Good thing your father ended up liking your mother.”

               “He actually had a secret crush on her,” Younghyun says. “Since high school actually. But he didn't know that they had gone to the same college. He tried to look for an opportunity to talk to her, but for some reason she always avoided him. (And you know why that was.) So the announcement of him suddenly being her boyfriend was a real shock.”

               “That’s one of the best getting-together stories I've ever heard.”

               “Isn't it?” Younghyun says. “I wonder if I’m gonna get a story like that, too.”

               Dowoon mutters something with the words “hope”, “already” and “did”.

               “What did you say?”

               “Nothing. Um, so what about you wanting to be a musician?” Dowoon asks, a little quickly. Younghyun doesn't think much of it.

               “Yeah. I’ve always liked music and singing, and it's just one of the things that felt… natural. Like I was meant to play music.”

               “Do you plan on doing it indie or signing under a label? Like SM, or Starship, or FNC, or JYP?” Dowoon asks.

               Younghyun gives him a questioning look.

               “I told you: I like fun facts and trivias.”

               “Well, I don't really know yet,” Younghyun admits. “I’m in the music club with some other guys. I don't think they like me though.” He pouts. “Something about territory and me getting late to the party. So I usually just do my own thing.

               “I actually play the bass.” He points to the bass guitar standing next to the empty guitar stand. “I saved up a _lot_ for that. Instruments are so expensive.

               “But Mom also taught me how to play the guitar, so I know how to play both. And—” Younghyun scratches his nape again— “I write my own songs, too.”

               “You do?” Dowoon asks.

               “Yeah.” Younghyun feels an embarrassed blush come over his cheeks.

               “Could you play one?”

               Younghyun is already about to say no (because what the duck he isn't going to let anyone listen to him sing aaa cringe attack cringe attack) but then he sees Dowoon face.

               It's like that time in the classroom when Mr. Kwon said something about the lesson and Dowoon had leaned forward, a light in his eyes suddenly gleaming. An innocent excitement is reflected in Dowoon’s face, his lips a thin line but his eyes giving out a bright light. And Younghyun doesn't want anything to dim it.

               So he tests the strings of the guitar and starts playing.

               It’s a song he had written recently. It had come to him naturally, like most of the songs he's written do, but this one had come much more quickly. Like the words were already in his mind and were only needed to be written down and sung.

               “ _I want to cry for you. I want to be the one hurting instead of you,_ ” he sings to Dowoon. “ _I don't want your heart to ever get hurt again_.

               “ _When you love someone so much, everything overflows. Isn't it amazing? This is what love is._ ”

               “Younghyun! Dowoonnie! Dinner is ready!” his mom calls out.

               “Coming!” Younghyun calls back.

               He stands up and puts the guitar back on its stand. He turns around. “Come on, Dowoon, let’s—”

               Dowoon is looking up at him, an indescribable expression on his face.

               “Dowoon?” Younghyun asks. “Is there something wrong?”

               Dowoon opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it. Then he says,

               “Nothing. I just… reaffirmed something.”

 

The next morning, Younghyun finds himself in a predicament.

               He remembers how last night went: they all had dinner, Younghyun washed the dishes again, his dad folded the table and swept the floor, mom brought over the mattress from her son’s room and dropped it down onto the ground so she and her husband could sleep on it for the night, and Dowoon went to the bathroom to change into his sleepwear. After that, Dowoon and Younghyun went to sleep on Younghyun’s bed (which wasn't as big as Dowoon’s but was at least able to fit two people). Other than Dowoon looking extremely red for some reason and Younghyun trying to repress the image of waking up next to him, they went to sleep with no problems, Younghyun falling asleep almost immediately. They had slept with their backs to each other, just as they had when Younghyun slept over at Dowoon’s house. Younghyun had woken up to an empty bed then, a note on the side saying _Good morning :)_ , which Younghyun thought was sweet until he realized that it was already half past eight and that Dowoon left to go to school without him, the jerk.

               And this morning, Younghyun is faced with another predicament because this time, he is the first to wake up.

               Ten centimeters away from Dowoon’s sleeping face.

               This close, Younghyun can count each eyelash (with difficulty) on Dowoon’s face, and see how peaceful he is when sleeping, breathing out of his nose in even, relaxed breaths.

               Watching him right now, Younghyun feels something tug at his heartstrings, and he suddenly gets the urge to wrap Dowoon in his arms.

               He doesn't, though, because frankly he thinks if he did, Dowoon would be crushed.

               Younghyun literally doesn't know what to do. I mean, he _could_ get off the bed right now and pretend this never happened, but they had a rule in this family that the first one to get up would make breakfast and Younghyun isn't really in the mood right now. He also doesn't want to wake Dowoon up because the boy looks so peaceful and so cuteee and Younghyun doesn't want to ruin his sleep.

               He’s in the middle of thinking whether or not he could fall back into sleep when Dowoon stirs in his sleep, furrowing his eyebrows, and Younghyun sucks in a breath.

               “… Young… hyun…,” Dowoon whispers, and Younghyun’s mind goes _!!!!!!!!!!!!_

               But Dowoon goes back to sleep and Younghyun almost sighs of relief, continuing to stare at Dowoon. (This isn't creepy, is it? It probably is.)

               When Dowoon had called Younghyun’s name, he'd felt his heartrate fasten, a wave of warmth coming over his face. It was a feeling he'd never felt before, something he was unfamiliar with, except when it came to Dowoon, because he's definitely felt it more than once with him before.

               Without thinking, Younghyun carefully puts a hand up, moving it closer to Dowoon’s face. When it’s just about to touch skin, Younghyun hesitates, unsure of whatever the hell he's doing.

               But then he moves away a lock of hair that was covering Dowoon’s eyes and pushes it behind his ear, keeping it there for a while.

               Dowoon stirs again, inching a little closer to Younghyun, closing the distance between them just a tiny bit.

               When he does, Younghyun slowly reaches over with his left arms and hugs Dowoon, just loosely, but the sensation of it sends sparks across Younghyun’s skin, and he wants to, really wants to, pull him closer.

               For what reason, Younghyun still doesn't know.

               “Younghyun?” Dowoon suddenly says.

               Younghyun immediately retracts his arm, moving away from Dowoon until his butt is way over the edge of the bed but his body is still on it somehow.

               “I didn't—I wasn't—” Younghyun splutters.

               “Why are you so noisy?” Dowoon mumbles.

               Younghyun, calming down, finds Dowoon only just waking from sleep, eyes still closed, and lips out on a pout. He stops himself from sighing in relief again, realizing Dowoon probably didn't notice he was being hugged.

               “Sorry,” Younghyun says. “I just… love the morning?”

               “Ew.”

               Dowoon sits up but his eyes are still closed, like he can't handle the morning light. His hair is a mess, sticking out in different directions. Younghyun finds it both endearing and funny, though his own hair is probably the same.

               Younghyun sits up beside him, shaking his own hair, while Dowoon rubs the sleep out of his eyes, still looking like he's in a dream.

               “What time is it?” Dowoon mumbles sleepily.

               Younghyun searches for his phone. “Exactly 8:05 AM.”

               “That's so early,” Dowoon mumbles, still not opening his eyes.

               “What time do you usually wake up on a Sunday morning?”

               “Way past twelve.”

               “That's so late.”

               “You being my friend tires me out more than you think.”

               “Wow. Thanks.”

               “You're welcome.”

               Younghyun shakes his head, grinning. Dowoon’s eyes are still closed, like he's waiting for someone to announce that it's not time to wake up yet so he can go immediately back to sleep.

               Younghyun ruffles his already-messy hair.

               “Come on, sleepyhead, it’s already time to wake up,” he says, still messing up Dowoon’s bedhead.

               Younghyun expects Dowoon to glare at him or make a snarky remark but the latter, surprisingly, makes a whiny noise, like a child.

               “I don't _wanna_ wake up,” Dowoon says, pouting and furrowing his eyebrows.

               Younghyun laughs. Is the boy still half-asleep? Cute.

               “You have to Dowoon,” he says.

               “Why?”

               “So you can see my beautiful face, of course.”

               “I already saw your beautiful face in my dreams; I don't wanna see it again.”

               Younghyun raises his eyebrows. “You dreamt about me?” _You think I have a beautiful face?_

               “All the time.”

               Younghyun stops rubbing the back of Dowoon’s head, surprised. Something grabs his heart and squeezes it, the same feeling he got when he woke up to Dowoon’s sleeping face just moments earlier.

               Dowoon leans into Younghyun’s hand, which had lost its strength, and ends up leaning onto Younghyun’s shoulder, breathing in and out evenly, falling again into sleep. Looking down at Dowoon like this with a comforting weight pressed against him and with his fingers carding through the sleeping boy’s hair, Younghyun wishes it could last forever.

               Except it doesn't because Younghyun’s dad suddenly walks in to tell him to ‘pull his weight, young man’, stopping mid-sentence and making a very red Younghyun, for the next two weeks, the topic of discussion every time his parents feel the need to tease their son.

               (It’s the only part he regrets.)

 

Younghyun stares down at the white sheet of paper floating in front of him, the blank side facing him and hiding whatever two-digit (hopefully it's a two-digit) number is written in bright red ink on the back.

               “This is your test paper, Mr. Kang,” Mr. Kwon informs in his monotonous tone helpfully, as if Younghyun had been staring at it for a good ten seconds after Younghyun had been called.

               With a subtle intake of breath, Younghyun gingerly receives the test paper, the blank side still facing him as Mr. Kwon calls out another name, his voice like muffled background music.

_Let it be at least half, please let it be at least half_ , Younghyun prays in his mind.

               He flips the paper over.

               Fifty-four over sixty.

               Younghyun got fifty-four over sixty.

               Younghyun got _fifty-four over sixty_.

               “I got fifty-four over sixty!” Younghyun yells before he can stop himself.

               His head could have hit the doorway with the way he had jumped impulsively, clutching the test paper in his fists and consequently crumpling it but _he didn't care he got fifty-four over sixty_!

               “Screw everyone whoever thought I couldn't get a score more than half the total! I worked my butt off memorizing those stupid formulas and every single letter followed by the word -test and actually understanding why we even needed this—hell yeah, people! I got fifty-four over sixty!”

               Younghyun finishes, panting, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest and an exhilarating feeling filling up his entire being. He realizes that nothing is impossible, that the world is his and anyone who says otherwise can _suck_ it.

               He also realizes that the class has gone awfully quiet.

               Younghyun snaps out of his reverie and sees that every one of his classmates is staring at him, looking surprised. Even Mr. Kwon is speechless. And Jieun just looks like she's embarrassed.

               But then a burst of laughter comes from the back of the class.

               It’s a boy sitting next to the chair Younghyun had just left, doubling over in laughter with a hand covering his mouth and the tips of his ears turning red. He glances up at Younghyun and laughs again, completely unaware of half of the class staring at him as well.

               A wide grin spreads across Younghyun’s face, and he walks over to his chair like nothing happened, hearing Mr. Kwon clear his throat and awkwardly resume the class.

               Dowoon is still laughing, though his initial guffaws simmered down to quiet giggles, his shoulders moving up and down.

               When Younghyun reaches him, Dowoon whispers,

               “I didn't think you'd actually yell, oh my god.” His eyes are brimming with tears and his lips look like they'll forever be shaped into a grin (though Younghyun knows Dowoon will force them to a thin line sometime later).

               “Can you blame me? I didn't think I’d pass the test,” Younghyun whispers back, placing the crumpled test paper on the desk and sitting down.

               “But you did,” Dowoon says, his laughter calming down into a smile, one that makes Younghyun’s heart jump. (For some reason.)

               “But I did,” Younghyun says, and he reaches over to wipe a tear actually about to trickle down Dowoon’s face. “Thanks to you.”

               Dowoon doesn't say anything, but the smile hasn't turned into a thin line, so Younghyun thinks it's alright.

               He turns back to his test paper, thinking to himself that red doesn't seem like such a condescending color anymore.

 

Younghyun gets used to the butterflies in his stomach and the way his heart contracts whenever Dowoon is around. When before it would drive Younghyun senseless not knowing how to handle it, now it's become a form of comfort for him. To feel a wave of warmth wash over his face and the urge to hug Dowoon so tightly and never let go. When before all of it left him confused, now it made him happy.

               Even if he doesn't know the reason why it happens in the first place, the important thing is that it does.

               And Younghyun hopes it keeps going, for a long time.

 

They're sitting on Dowoon’s big-ass bed, notebooks, books, and oranges (and lots of orange peels) decorating it unorganized.

               “So basically, since all you changed in the equation of a parabola is the sign,” Dowoon is saying, popping another orange slice into his mouth, “which is the plus sign turning into the minus sign for the equation of a hyperbola, you'll notice most of the properties are the same or similar.”

               Dowoon pops three more orange slices into his mouth, already grabbing another orange from the pile off the bed.

               “The hyperbola-equivalent for the end points of the latus recta are the asymptotes, which are basically two lines intersecting the center of the hyperbola,” Dowoon continues, peeling an orange halfway and popping a slice into his mouth. Younghyun hasn't even had one. “For the latus recta, we used _b 2_ over _a_ for whatever direction the graph is in, but for the asymptotes, we use—”

               Dowoon cuts himself off, noticing Younghyun staring at him. The orange slice hangs mid-air, hugged by three fingers.

               “What is it?” Dowoon asks before popping an orange slice into his mouth. He continues with his mouth full, “Am I being too fast?”

               “You're being too cute,” Younghyun immediately says, not knowing why he said it. _Younghyun, you dumb duck._

               Only the red color spreading to the tips of Dowoon’s ears shows any sign that the boy is affected by what Younghyun said.

               “That's not an excuse to not study.” Dowoon frowns. “Just because you got a fifty-four over sixty in one test doesn't mean you’ll have a fifty-four over sixty in all the tests.”

               “I can't help it; you've been eating all the oranges like you haven't eaten in days,” Younghyun laughs. “We started with like fifteen when I came over.”

               Dowoon looks down at the four oranges next to the notebooks. Younghyun notices something and laughs.

               “Look at your fingers,” he says, grinning.

               The tips of Dowoon’s fingers look like they’d been dipped in bright orange paint and are only starting to fade. A blush finds its way across Dowoon’s cheeks, coloring it a splotchy pink.

               “I should buy you an orange along with that banana milk tomorrow,” Younghyun says, smiling. “I've never seen someone so whipped over a fruit before.”

               “It's not that weird, is it?” Dowoon says, turning his palms face up and looking at his fingertips.

               “It could be,” Younghyun says, honestly. “But I think it’s cute.”

               Younghyun takes Dowoon’s hands, running a thumb over the fingertips.

               “This is gonna be a pain to clean up, though,” he says, checking how deep the color is on Dowoon’s skin. “Even if you scrub it all off, there's still gonna be traces of it. You have to wait for your skin to naturally shed the color off.” He runs his thumb over Dowoon’s dyed skin.

               “How are you so oblivious?” Dowoon mumbles.

               “Oblivious?” Younghyun echoes, glancing up at Dowoon, who’s entire face is red.

               “You weren't supposed to hear that,” Dowoon mumbles again. “Or this.”

               Younghyun is about to ask why he wasn't supposed to when he hears a knock.

               The both of them instinctively turn to the archway, which opens to the lounge area of Dowoon’s room. The knock had come from the door a right turn and a few steps away.

               “Did you order something?” Younghyun asks, turning back to Dowoon.

               “Even if I did, how on earth did they get inside this house?” Dowoon says, eyes still looking behind Younghyun.

               Another knock is heard, and Younghyun lets go of Dowoon’s hands, jumping off of the bed.

               “I’ll go check,” he says, already passing through the archway. “If it's a thief, I can immobilize him. Or her. Or them. Mom taught me self-defense.”

               “Why would a thief knock on— _Younghyun, wait, I know who’s_ —”

               Younghyun has already opened the door.

               A woman stares at him, eyes wide in restrained surprise, hair cut short in a neat bob, a simple necklace with several white jewels hanging at the center shaped into a dragonfly.

               Younghyun’s fairly certain he's never met this woman before in his life, but he's more than sure that he's seen her before.

               Specifically, on a portrait photo of her standing next to the owner of this room.

               “Younghyun, get back h—” Dowoon’s voice is cut short, his rapid footsteps stopping abruptly just behind him.

               “Dowoon?” the woman says, looking behind Younghyun. Her voice is soft and gentle. “Who is this boy?”

               “A friend. But you wouldn’t have cared enough to know,” comes Dowoon’s cold reply, surprising Younghyun. Dowoon has never lacked in sarcastic remarks and insults thrown at Younghyun, but it was all lighthearted, jokes, banter.

               This. This he meant.

               “S-sorry,” Younghyun stutters, and the woman turns to him, analyzing. “I just came over for a study session. I can leave—”

               “No.” Dowoon’s voice was firm, the hand that suddenly grabbed his shoulder even more so. “I invited you here. You shouldn't leave just because _she_ finally shows up.”

               Younghyun doesn't say anything, just looks unsure at the woman in front of him. He doesn't want to look at Dowoon’s expression—he's scared of what he might see.

               The woman’s eyes shift between Younghyun and Dowoon, the gears in her mind obviously working. Then, she smiles, and it's a polite, formal smile meant for business partners and colleagues.

               “Well, first off, why don't I introduce myself: my name is Yoon Yena, Dowoon’s mother.”

 

Younghyun thinks he's never been in a more nerve-wrecking situation than the one he’s in right now: sitting on a bar stool in front of the counter top, one hand holding his phone and one on top of one knee, and doing his best to not show his nervousness in front of Dowoon’s mom, who's standing in front of the stove, preparing tea.

               Dowoon had refused to come down with them when his mom invited Younghyun to have some tea, the latter only able to let out a tiny squeak that she assumed to be a yes. Younghyun had wanted to speak to Dowoon for a little while first, but the boy had already returned to his bedroom, wanting to be left alone.

               Right now, he's staring down at the screen of his phone, nervously biting down his bottom lip, his _Dowoon, are you okay?_ just above a tiny _Read 4:41_.

               “Here you are, Younghyun.”

               He looks up to see Dowoon’s mom placing a tray filled with a kettle and a couple tea cups, already filled with brown tea.

               “Do you like black tea?” she asks, a smile on her face.

               “I-I’ve never tried it before,” Younghyun answers. _But the tea is brown. Why is it called black tea. It's BROWN._

               “Well, if you find it not to your liking, you can always ask for anything else. We have a wide variety of refreshments,” Dowoon’s mom says, taking a seat across Younghyun and picking up her own tea cup.

               “That's fine ; thank you,” Younghyun says, following her example and picking up a tea cup.

               Dowoon’s mom smiles, then takes a sip of her tea. Sitting in front of her, Younghyun can see the resemblance, though it's minimal. If Dowoon had gotten most of his features from his parents, he guesses most of it's probably from his dad.

               Although, there isn't a single photo of him on the walls of this house so Younghyun can confirm. He wonders why.

               Dowoon’s mother puts down her cup.

               “I should apologize for our meeting to be so unplanned like this,” she says, smiling apologetically. “I’m very busy, you see. I didn't even know my son had a friend whom he lets visit sometimes.”

_“She's supposed to be my mother, but she's never around. I might as well be living alone.”_

               Younghyun smiles in return, though it feels more like a grimace.

               “So how long have you and Dowoon been friends?” she asks, a polite smile on her face.

               “Uh… since September, I think,” Younghyun says, recalling.

               “That’s quite a while…” Something passes over her face, but she quickly erases it away. “And has he been good to you?”

               “Oh, definitely, yeah,” he answers immediately. Talking about Dowoon is like second nature to him. “He helps me a lot at school. I, um, I’m sort of… slow when it comes to academics, but Dowoon helped a _lot_. He's really good at explaining stuff that would usually go _way_ over my head. I mean, I usually get really low scores on tests, but this time I got fifty-four over _sixty_. He’s a natural. He even wants to be a teache—”

               Younghyun cuts himself off, thinking that maybe Dowoon wouldn't want this information to be given to his mother at this point, but it’s too late. Dowoon’s mother widens her eyes; she'd already looked surprised at Younghyun’s words before he mentioned that

               “Dowoon wants to be a teacher?” she says in restrained surprise. “I… didn't know this.”

               "H-he never told you?" Younghyun asks, hesitant.

               "No."  She says it with a bitter smile on her face. "Like he said, I haven't cared enough to know."

               Younghyun doesn’t know what to do. He feels like he should say something, but no words form in his mind. None that sound right, anyway.

               But Dowoon’s mom is already speaking.

               “When…,” she starts, “When my husband died, it was like my entire world fell apart. All I felt was pain, hurt. Like one half of my heart was ripped apart. Every piece of advice... comfort… it did nothing. Can you imagine losing someone whom you've swore to love your entire life?”

               Three faces appear in Younghyun’s mind at that moment.

               “Work helped me cope through it. Distracted me from the pain, from everything,” she continues, looking down at her tea cup. Almost as if she was telling this to herself instead of Younghyun. “But every second off work made me remember his face, his love, his smile… everything that I don't have anymore. Without realizing it, I became addicted to work, devoting myself to it, making excuses, convincing myself it was to help the company.

               “But no. I wasn't helping anyone but myself. And the worst part of it all, I ended up hurting my son, my Dowoon.

               “I forgot all about him. Forgot to be a mother to him. All to forget the man who brought me all the love in the world and, alongside it, all the pain.

               “I didn't realize how much I must’ve hurt him. How much he must hate me because of it. And I understand if he does. I've been nothing but neglectful, insensitive, selfish to the son I should've been a mother to.”

               Dowoon’s mother takes a shaky breath, then looks up at Younghyun. She breaks out into a sheepish smile, wiping her eyes with a finger.

               “I’m very sorry to put this on you, Younghyun. Not a good way to meet your friend’s mother, is it?” she says, trying a laugh. “It’s just… I suppose I've been holding all of this in for the longest time. I don't even remember the last time I've spent time with him.”

               She looks around, sighing. Then she turns to Younghyun.

               “I’m sure you noticed how angry he was with me. I’d hate myself too, if I was in his place,” she says, a sad smile on her face.

               It's a while before Younghyun speaks.

               “He doesn't hate you.”

               “What?”

               Younghyun takes a breath, looking at Dowoon’s mom straight in the eye.

               “He doesn't hate you,” he says. “He loves you. So much. That's why he’s so angry. Because he cares so much about you loving him as much, too.

               “I know I’m not in the place to tell you how to treat Dowoon because that's a decision that a mom should make herself . But right now, Dowoon needs you. Dowoon needs someone to ask him how he did at school, someone to take care of him when he gets sick because he forgot to turn off the AC again, someone to comfort him when he cries.

               “You might not want to fix things because you think they're too broken to _be_ fixed. But as long as Dowoon is angry at you, as long as he tells me how much he wishes you were a better mom, as long as he still cares, things can still be fixed.

               “He might not forgive you right away. Knowing Dowoon it’ll probably need at least three days at most. But that's because he wants to be sure. Wants to accept a love he’s sure won't leave him again.

               “He loves you so much. All he wants is for you to show you still love him, too.”

               The two of them don’t say anything for a while. Dowoon’s mom’s face is unreadable, the words that had just come out of Younghyun’s mouth still settling in her mind.

               Then a call from Younghyun’s mom tells him he needs to get home as it's already late.

 

Younghyun doesn't see Dowoon again after that.

               The night Younghyun met Mrs. Yoon he had texted Dowoon about ten times, asking him if he was okay, if everything was fine, if he should be worried or not.

               All he got in reply was _don’t take me to school tomorrow_. Younghyun had been too scared to disobey.

               Walking to school alone was the worst feeling in the universe. He had felt empty, lacking, wishing there was a grumpy boy next to him, rolling his eyes at a bad joke Younghyun said but hiding a smile when he thought Younghyun wasn't looking. Younghyun had wanted to run to Dowoon’s house and press on the boy’s doorbell repeatedly, shout out Dowoon’s name, anything to see his face.

               But he didn't. Because Dowoon told him not to.

               The first day, Younghyun had to be called on by the teacher multiple times for not paying attention to class because he had been staring at the empty chair next to him. Younghyun hadn't cared much for it; he cared too much about the absence of the boy who was supposed to be next to him.

               The second day, Jieun had noticed Younghyun acting weird. He had gone to school much earlier than her, which was saying something, as she and her best friend were always the first to arrive at school. He had also reacted very minimally to her usual teasings, which she probably deemed the last straw. She was only able to get the situation out of him through a hurried “I don't know what’s happening—Dowoon isn’t telling me anything—I probably shouldn't be worried but I can't help it—I don't know what to do.”

               The third day, Younghyun had decided that he had enough of this; he was going straight up to Dowoon’s house and demand him to get down from his room because he couldn't stand not knowing if everything was okay, couldn't stand not getting another reply, couldn't stand spending another day without the boy who's made every day worth spending.

               But a hand stops him before he leaves the classroom.

               “Younghyun, I have to tell you something,” Jieun says, not letting go of Younghyun’s arm.

               “Jieun, I am really sorry, but I need to get to Dowoon’s house; I can't stand this,” Younghyun says, the words flying out of his mouth without him even thinking them up.

               “Younghyun, if I don't tell you this now, I’m never going to have another chance to tell you it ever again.”

               That stops Younghyun; he stops resisting, and the two of them stand at the back of the class as the last student walks out, mumbling something about homework.

               Jieun lets go of Younghyun’s arm, lets out a sigh, and says,

               “I like you.”

               Younghyun widens his eyes. Jieun puts a hand up before he can say anything.

               “Don't worry; I already know.” Jieun smiles. “You don't like me back.”

               Younghyun doesn't know what to say. All of what's happened with Dowoon had rattled him so much that something like this makes his mind go blank. But he eventually finds his words.

               “I… I’m sorry,” he says.

               “It’s fine; you don't have to be. I… I already had a _lot_ of time to accept it,” she says. “I just don't…”

               She suddenly breathes out a laugh, as if the situation suddenly seems funny to her.

               “I guess I just don't want any regrets,” she finally says. Then she whispers, and Younghyun doesn't know if he's supposed to hear it, “So this is what he felt, huh.”

               Jieun looks up at him, smiling.

               Then she punches Younghyun’s shoulder.

               “Ow!” Younghyun yells, rubbing at where Jieun hit him.

               “Just don't you dare make things awkward between us just because I confessed to you,” Jieun says, actually pointing a finger at Younghyun’s face. “The most annoying part of a friendship is when feelings break it.”

               “Okay,” Younghyun says. “I wasn't planning on it, anyway.”

               “Good.” She pauses before continuing, “I mean, I did say that I don’t want any regrets, but _man_ I can't believe I wasn't able to make you like me when I had the chance.”

               “What do you mean ‘when you had the chance’?” Younghyun isn't sure if he should mention that he only likes guys.

               “You know… before you liked…” And Jieun gestures as if Younghyun is supposed to know.

               “I don't…” he falters, gesturing to show he doesn’t.

               “Oh my god.” Jieun runs both hands down her face, looking done with Younghyun. “You don't even know you have feelings for—?”

               She gestures with both her arms at something, and Younghyun turns to the chair that hadn't been sat on by its rightful owner for three days.

               “What? No.” Younghyun turns back to Jieun. “I don't have f-feelings for Dowoon; he's a friend.”

               “Oh my god; he's both dense and in denial.” Jieun covers her face with both hands. Then she says a muffled, “Dowoon, fighting,” which doesn't make any sense.

               Jieun puts down her hands and pats Younghyun on the shoulder.

               “You better be worth it, Younghyun,” she says, looking serious. “You better be.”

               Then she grabs her bag and leaves the classroom and Younghyun very confused.

               He just wishes she had left him alone with Dowoon.

 

The walk home is a quiet one, especially without Dowoon walking with him for the third day in a row. He’s become familiar with the feeling, but he doesn't think he'll ever get used to it.

               When he arrives home, his dad is in the middle of cooking dinner. His mom had left to give back the laundry she'd washed up for the neighbors. The both of them had noticed the change in Younghyun’s behavior, but they knew their son—he’ll open up when he's ready. As long as he doesn't suddenly be rude to them, they'll leave him alone to deal with it himself. They trust him enough for that.

               Younghyun immediately flops onto his bed as soon as he reaches his room. Everything’s just too much. He doesn't even know what to feel, what to think, but his heart and mind just keep shouting _Dowoon, Dowoon_ over and over again.

               He misses him. So much. He wants to hug him tight, pinch his cheeks, tell him everything that's happened, just _be_ with him.

               He can't explain it. He honestly can't. He just… just… cares for Dowoon so, so much to the point that his happiness becomes Younghyun’s happiness, that his sadness becomes his, that his smiles, tears, frowns, grins are all his and his alone.

               He misses him. He wants to be with him. He wants Dowoon to be there. Here.

               The sudden ringing of his phone sends Younghyun off his bed in surprise, the interruption feeling more like an alarm than anything.

               When he comes to, he realizes three things: (1) his phone hasn't stopped ringing, (2) that it's because it’s a ringtone, and (3) it’s the specific ringtone he had reserved for Dowoon.

               Younghyun scrambles up to his bed with an air of queenly grace and grabs his phone, pressing the green button before he accidentally turns it into a missed call.

               “Dowoon? Are you okay? Is everything fine? Why haven't you gone to school? Should I be worried? Are you sick? Did you forget to turn off the AC again?”

               All he gets in response is a very confused, _“Uh…”_

               Younghyun lets out a deep breath. It’s Dowoon. It really is Dowoon.

_“S-sorry… I guess you've been worried.”_

               “Worried is an understatement.” Younghyun shifts on his bed and leans against the headboard.

_“Yeah, I… sorry.”_

               “What happened?” Younghyun asks, shaking his leg out of nervous habit.

_“I wish I could tell you now, but… Well, there's this thing…”_

               “What thing?” Younghyun doesn't think he can get more anxious than he is now.

_“Well, she… my mother… uh…”_

               Younghyun holds a breath.

_“She wants to invite you to dinner. And your parents. Tomorrow night.”_

 

“I don't look too underdressed, do I?” Younghyun’s mom asks the both of them, standing in front of the mirror and patting down her yellow floral dress.

               “You look beautiful in anything you wear, honey,” Younghyun’s dad assures her.

               “You’re my husband; of course, I’m beautiful,” she replies, readjusting her necklace. “Unless Mrs. Yoon is in love with me, I don't think your point of view in this matter matters much.”

               “That’s true,” her husband agrees.

               “Mom, you look fine,” Younghyun says, though he understands her concern. He himself had debated on whether he should wear blue jeans or black jeans for a good ten minutes.

               “Are you sure? It’s not obvious that this dress hasn't been worn in years, is it?”

               “Mom, brand new dresses haven't even been worn at _all_ ,” he says. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

*

Younghyun’s parents look up at Dowoon’s big-ass house with  their mouths slightly open, unable to hide their awe.

               “It’s so tall,” his dad says.

               “I know,” Younghyun says.

               “We could fit about ten of our apartment in that house,” his mom says.

               “I know,” Younghyun says.

               “Let’s go ring the doorbell before Dowoon’s family thinks we’re weird,” his dad says.

               Younghyun and his mom nod in agreement. Younghyun rings the doorbell.

               A few seconds later, the door to the house opens, and when Younghyun sees who steps out of it, his heart stops.

               It’s Dowoon, dressed semi-casual, semi-formal, hair looking like he’d tried to style it but failed, keeping it a little messy in the end.

               When Dowoon catches his eye, he pauses for a few seconds, staring at Younghyun with wide eyes. He doesn't care if this sounds cheesy—time felt like it stopped at that moment.

_Dowoon. It’s Dowoon_.

               The boy breaks the stare and starts walking toward them, glancing at Younghyun every now and then.

               “Good evening, Mrs and Mr Kang,” he greets, opening the gate.

               “Good evening, Dowoon-ah,” his mom says, smiling.

               Dowoon turns to Younghyun. “And Younghyun.”

               “I like how you left me out until the very end,” Younghyun says.

               “They do say leave the best for last,” Dowoon says with a straight face before turning to Younghyun’s parents with a slight bow. “Please come in.”

               His parents follow Dowoon inside, sniggering at a dumbstruck Younghyun who takes a few seconds before following after them.

               “Dinner will almost be ready,” Dowoon is saying as they enter. “She—”

               Dowoon cuts himself off, looking down for a moment.

               “I mean… Mother… Mother says she'll be ready in a few minutes, if that’s alright with you,” he finishes, scratching the back of his neck as they walk in the first living room.

               Younghyun looks at him weirdly. Okay, he definitely needs to find time to talk to Dowoon alone.

               “Of course, that's fine, Dowoon-ah,” his mom says, smiling. “I’m glad she decided to invite us.”

               “Yeah, um, it’s because—”

               “Oh, Dowoon, are they here already?”

               They all turn to see Mrs. Yoon coming from the kitchen and walking out the dining room.

               When she sees Younghyun’s parents, she smiles widely, and Younghyun is hit with a sense of familiarity. Dowoon may have not gotten his features from his mom, but he definitely got her smile.

               She looks happier than four days ago, walking down the short steps from the kitchen to the living room. When she reaches them, she immediately places both her hands on Dowoon’s shoulders, who, surprisingly, receives it sheepishly and not at all annoyed.

               “It’s such a pleasure to finally get to know you all,” Mrs. Yoon says. “Dowoon has told me so much about you. Thank you for taking care of him.”

               “Not a problem at all, Mrs. Yoon,” says Younghyun’s dad. “Your son has helped Younghyun a lot at school. It’s the least we can do to return the favor.”

               “Yes, they're very close, aren't they?” Dowoon’s mom says, giggling.

               She and Dowoon share a look, and the latter suddenly widens his eyes, turning red. Younghyun’s own parents share a knowing look. Younghyun looks at them all, feeling like he missed something.

               “Anyway,” Dowoon’s mom says with a giggle, “I hope you don't mind waiting a few more minutes? I haven't finished dinner yet. Haven't even set the table yet, either.”

               “Oh, definitely, no,” Younghyun’s mom says. “Why don't we help you? My husband is a very good cook.”

               “Really?” Dowoon’s mom says.

               “I-I…” Younghyun’s dad looks between all of them, looking like an awkward chick surrounded by mother hens. “I studied, but I've never actually… you know… been a chef.”

               “You studied, though,” Younghyun says.

               “I guess I did.”

               “Come on, then,” Dowoon’s mom says. “I’m not really the best chef in the world, so I’m sure I need both of your help.”

               The three adults walk to the kitchen, Younghyun’s dad saying something about how full the spice bottles are.

               Dowoon and Younghyun stare at each other, standing alone together in the living room.

               “So…” Younghyun says.

               “So…?” Dowoon asks.

               Younghyun takes a deep breath.

               “I missed you. A lot.”

               Dowoon cracks a smile, and Younghyun is convinced that every smile Dowoon makes is more beautiful than the last one.

               “Me, too.”

 

The two of them are walking together on empty streets guarded by houses in the neighborhood, the moon in the sky a bright crescent.

               “You know, I think the only reason why they sent us to go buy some stuff you don't need is because they want to talk about something behind our backs,” Younghyun says, looking down into the plastic bag filled with a bottle of soda, some cans of more soda, and a big jumbo-sized pack of some soda-flavored chips.

               “What are you talking about; I need this,” Dowoon says, opening his own plastic bag.

               Younghyun leans forward to look closer—the bag is filled with three bottles of banana milk and seven oranges.

               Younghyun glances up at Dowoon.

               “Shut up,” Dowoon says, pushing Younghyun away.

               Younghyun grins at him and they continue walking. The sounds of their footsteps break the silence of the street, walking downhill.

               “You never told me what happened,” Younghyun says. “Why you didn't go to school and why you wouldn't reply to me.”

               “Yeah, sorry,” Dowoon says beside him. The sound of the plastic bags rustling next to them go in line with their footsteps. “She… I mean, Mother… After you left, I locked myself in my room for three days. Mother kept trying to convince me to get out, telling me she was sorry for being a bad mother, for… all she did.

               “It was… hard to accept at first. I mean, for the longest time, she'd forgotten about me, and then, without warning, she suddenly wanted to fix things? It was hard to believe. And so difficult, and painful, too.

               “Then on the third day, she told me that the reason why she wanted to fix things was because of someone at work. One of her employees had gotten into an accident, and the man’s son, a little boy, had come up to the office, asking where his father was, why his father didn't pick him up at school, crying.

               “At that moment, Mother said she suddenly thought of me. That she suddenly realized that that boy was me right then. That she had tried to forget Father so much to the point that she ended up forgetting me, too. She had forgotten that when she lost her husband, her son had lost a father, too.

               “Then she told me she was happy that, at the very least, I had met you. That even though I had lost a mother, I had also gained a friend. Someone who cared so much for me. Someone who would get angry for me. Someone who lo—was kind to me, unconditionally.

               “She told me then that even if I would never forgive her, she'll make sure that I never lose you. So that if she can't give me happiness, at least you would be mine.”

               Dowoon takes a deep breath. Younghyun doesn't know where they've gone; they've been walking without thinking of a path in mind.

               “I forgave her,” Dowoon finally says. “It was difficult, but I forgave her. And when I did, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. Like everything was going to be okay again. That everything was going to be fine.”

               Younghyun smiles at Dowoon, who had a small smile on his face as well, looking down at his shoes as they walked.

               “I’m glad you worked things out,” Younghyun says.

               “I’m glad, too.”

               Younghyun stops in his tracks, realizing where they are.

               “Woah, there was a playground in this area?” he says, looking around. They're standing right next to a slide and a set of monkey bars, a swing set a few steps away.

               “Oh, yeah,” Dowoon says, walking towards the swing set. “It was a project from around two years ago for the neighborhood. It also means that we won't be able to get home under thirty minutes.”

               “Dang,” Younghyun says, following him. “We probably should head home quickly then.”

               “Yeah, probably.” Dowoon sits down on one of the seats. Younghyun sits next to him.

               They sit in silence for a while.

               “We’re not going to move for another fifteen minutes, are we,” Dowoon says.

               “Nope,” Younghyun says, popping the ‘p’.

               Younghyun grabs the chains connecting the seat to the swing set and slowly sways.

               “You know, this swing set reminds me of when I first met Jieun,” Younghyun says, recalling.

               “Jieun?” Dowoon asks, and Younghyun can see him look up at him in his peripheral vision.

               “Yeah. Mr. Butthole thought I had stolen some money from the cashier, so he made me remove everything from my pockets, which were empty, of course. Jieun had been there at the time, and had told Mr. Butthole off, calling him a bully and giving him his nickname. She had pulled me out of that store and refused to let go of my arm until we reached that park from before—you know, the one where we sat when we first met.

               “She had kept on ranting about him the entire time. She’d been so funny about it that I forgot all about Mr. Butthole. The next day at school, I recognized her as my classmate, and we ultimately ended up being friends.”

               Younghyun smiles at the memory, unable to stop himself.

               A beat of silence.

               “Do you like Jieun?” Dowoon asks, voice soft for some reason.

               “Of course, I do,” Younghyun says. “She’s funny, smart, has a weirdly large amount of knowledge on cases involving serial killers—I think she's planning on taking up law—how could I not like her?”

               “Oh.”

               Younghyun furrows his eyebrows; Dowoon’s voice had sounded weird.

               He turns to see the boy looking down at his shoes, an unmistakable sullen look on his face, the same exact one he pulled when he dropped a peeled orange on the ground.

               “What, are you jealous?” Younghyun asks, trying a teasing tone and reaching over to pinch Dowoon’s cheeks. “Don't worry; I like you, too. Don't tell Jieun, but I think I might actually like you more than her.”

               A relieved look washes over Dowoon’s face, but then a look of confusion quickly replaces it.

               “But why?” he asks.

               “Why what?” Younghyun asks back.

               “Why do you like me?”

               Younghyun shrugs. “I just do.”

               “That doesn't make sense; how can there be no reason?”

               “Does there have to be?”

               “Yes!” Dowoon exclaims, frustration evident in his voice. “I've never done anything for you except help you with school. I’m not funny, or nice, or quirky. I have a face that might as well be made of rock. I’m not talented, or really good at drawing, or singing. Not good at sports. I’m not even a genius—I just like learning; that's it! How do you like me? _Why_ do you like me? I don't get it!”

               Younghyun’s voice is quiet.

               “You think _I_ get it?” he asks. “You think I understand why every day I wish I could get to your house as soon as possible so I could see your face? You think I understand why every time you smile it’s like my entire world lights up with it? You think I understand why every time I look at you my heart suddenly thinks I’m running a marathon?

               “I can't explain it, Dowoon. I don't know why you make me feel like this. All I know is that you do, and that I like liking you.

               “I don't like you because you're funny—I like _that_ you're funny. I don’t like you because you’re passionate about being a teacher—I _like_ that you're passionate.

               “I like that you’re smarter than anyone I've known. I like that you’re witty and so unique. I like your eyes, your smile, and your laugh—your laugh is all I _need_. I like everything about you, and I like that everything about you is so you.

               “I don't like you because of all the amazing things about you—I like you because I just _do_.”

               For a moment, none of them speak. A dog runs on the street to their left, and a light flickers off from one of the houses.

               Then Dowoon leans forward and kisses him, and Younghyun realizes he’s never needed anything more in his life.

               Dowoon grabs onto Younghyun’s shirt, and Younghyun realizes that the world could go into ruins and he could not care one single bit.

               Dowoon smiles into the kiss, and Younghyun, finally, finally, _finally_ realizes that he's been in love with Dowoon since the very beginning.

               He also realizes that he's the biggest idiot in the entire world.

 

“I think he's actually gonna do it.”

               “You really think he’ll finally…?”

               “Are you sure? The last time, he—”

               “Shh! It’s his turn.”

               Jieun, Younghyun, and Dowoon are all seated by the café window, staring intensely at Jaehyung, who nervously speaks to the pretty Café Noona.

               Café Noona smiles at something Jaehyung said, and the three of them hold their breath. Then she punches in something on the cashier and moves to the back, preparing a drink, probably.

               Jaehyung turns to the three of them. Jieun puts her hands up in a “Well?” gesture.

               Jaehyung grimaces, and three of them collectively sigh, Jieun putting her hands up, Younghyun putting a hand on his face, and Dowoon looking up at the ceiling.

               Disappointed, but not surprised.

*

Jaehyung groans into the table, sending muffled vibrations across the wood. Jieun sits next to him with a cup of green tea, Jaehyung’s mocha drink sitting lonely in front of it. Younghyun and Dowoon sit across them, Younghyun’s chocolate drink in his hands and Dowoon’s banana milk drink already half-empty.

               “I just… I can't believe I messed up again,” Jaehyung says, voice muffled and arms moving up and down. “I keep freezing up around her. I can't even ask her number or even her _name_ without stuttering.”

               Jieun looks at Café Noona, the name first said by Dowoon and is now used by the four of them, even Jieun.

               “Yeah, Café Noona is very pretty. I can understand why you’re so nervous around her, Jae,” she says. “Though I think I’d pull this off better than you could ever.”

               “Ji, do not even _think_ about hitting on her,” Jaehyung warns, face still implanted onto the table but a finger pointing directly at Jieun’s face. “Remember Mina? I could've gone out with her if your bi ass didn't tell her she was pretty.”

               “She _was_ ,” Jieun says in her defense.

               “I had a _crush_ on her!” Jaehyung says, finally detaching his face from the table, a bright red mark painfully obvious on his cheek.

               Younghyun watches them squabble with an amused grin on his face. Jieun had introduced him to Younghyun and Dowoon a week after they got together (“Younghyun, Dowoon, this is Jaehyung, my best friennd. Jaehyung, this is the boy who broke my heart, and this is the boy he is dating.” “What.”). Younghyun had come to learn that the two of them arguing like this is their unique way of showing they love each other.

               Younghyun chuckles as he thinks this, sipping on his chocolate drink and grabbing Dowoon’s hand under the table.

               He watches the two of them argue a bit more for a few seconds.

               “Younghyun?” Dowoon says.

               “Yeah?” Younghyun says, giving him his full attention.

               “You're holding my hand,” he points out.

               “What? Oh, sorry. Habit.”

               He moves to pull his hand away, but Dowoon’s tightens his grip.

               “I’ve never once said I wanted you to let go,” he says, simply.

               Younghyun lets a grin slowly creep up his face and he leans in quickly, pecking Dowoon on the lips before the boy could protest. Younghyun turns in front of him—

               And finds Jaehyung and Jieun staring at them, the latter looking amused and the former looking jealous.

               “How do you do it?” Jaehyung asks, whining.

               Younghyun grins and shrugs. Dowoon does the same.

               “We just do.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **UPDATE 12/15/2018**  
>  mY DUMBASS SELF FORGOT TO SAY THAT I ALREADY POSTED [THE EXTENSION](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16044110) HHHHH (tho to be fair, it's listed as the next part in this series bUT STILL I AM A DUMBASS IM SO SORRY OTL) 
> 
> UPDATE 07/30/2018: I'm currently making an extension of this AU! It's going to be an episodic chaptered fic with lotsa lotsa lotsa chapters! It's going to be lighthearted and will touch on dowoon and younghyun's growing relationship, jaehyung's side story with the beautiful cafe noona, jieun's own love story with an OC i made (she's a girrrrrrl *insert go lesbians vine*), and the sungpil side to the story! you can check the progress of that right [here](https://twitter.com/raikayyylmao/status/1018513474777899014). I hope you'll support that story alongside this one; I am suuuuper excited to write and finish this project! I hope it turns out well and I hope you like it, too! Thank you so much for reading this story, and I hope you all have wonderful days ahead of you. ^^
> 
>  
> 
> _Original text_  
>  Thank you so much for reading this long-ass fic abt Younghyun being painfully dense about his love for Dowoon lmao
> 
> To be honest, I had NO idea it was gonna be this long lmao the longest I've ever written before was 10k. I'm not really that confident with this work but I do hope it was a good read nonetheless!
> 
> Thanks so much to frhssi for betaing this fic! Go check her out at [https://archiveofourown.org/users/frhssi/pseuds/frhssi]; she writes a TON of Yoonjin (BTS) angst and is a really great writer! Go check out her YoonJin Flower Shop/Hanahaki Disease AU 'The Arrangement of Flowers' NOW at [https://archiveofourown.org/works/13594035/chapters/31205310]!
> 
> (Also you should check out how she betas my fics lol it's all golden -> https://twitter.com/raikayyylmao/status/977358731003420672)
> 
> Anyway, thank you again for reading this! Comments and kudos are very appreciated :) Have a wonderful day!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [『 Redamancy | k.yh + y.dw 』](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16071329) by [moanbin_com](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moanbin_com/pseuds/moanbin_com)




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